


Cave

by LaLimonata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 23:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12119511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLimonata/pseuds/LaLimonata
Summary: Hermione travels back in time with Kreacher after she gives up hope in a world where Voldemort has taken over. Riddle takes an unhealthy interest in the new girl at school.This is my trash addiction but it will deal with some dark themes including dubious consent, mental health issues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone tries the stuff that Riddle does to Hermione, that is not consensual. Be aware.

It was dark outside the cave. Warm night air swirling slightly, winds teasing the atoms into spiralling patterns. Hermione couldn't see this of course but the way she sat at the mouth of the cave, watching the air, it wasn't hard to imagine she could. The wind tugged at her hair too, pleading for her to come and play. She didn't notice.

The dark lived in Hermine too now; Harry's death had been too big a blow followed too closely by Ron's. Her parents were gone too, lost to obliviation. The rest of the Order was in hiding or dead - that is if you could call it an Order. There were a few stragglers like her, but many had given up the fight.

She slowly brushed her hair back from her face and lay on her side. It was exhausting moving from place to place and sometimes she wondered whether she would rather just let go but her heart couldn't quite let her best friends’ memories be so disrespected. She sighed. At least it was warm now, she thought. The last six months had been hard on her, food and shelter scarce. The tent she'd camped in with the boys was tucked into her bag, shrunk into a charm around her neck. She only took out what she needed now as she'd lost precious medical supplies in an early fix-up while she lost the Death Eaters on her trail.

Sighing again she called for Kreacher. After the first few months she had been weak with hunger and tried the only thing she could. Surprisingly Kreacher had arrived when she called out for help and despite referring to her as "Mistress Mudblood" had nursed her back to health whilst grumbling about the state she had been in. Curious as ever, despite her weak body and soul, she had questioned his appearance. Apparently house elves recognised Hermione as Harry's kin, his sister specifically and so his death had left the elf in her care.

Kreacher appeared with a bow and a muttered greeting. When Hermione didn't reply he spoke up,  
"Mistress Mudblood bes ill?"

The witch shook her head. A pause. She turned to him and he could see she wasn't quite herself, her eyes were duller than normal.  
"I need help Kreacher. I have a spell." She took a deep breath, "I think I could go back in time."

The wizened elf looked puzzled, but he didn't question his mistress. He knew she was smart. She had been reading many books lately and she tended to mutter aloud on difficult passages. He remembered her saying things about time and frowning at her books.

"I have a spell that is effectively like a portkey. I don’t know if it will work. I've practiced the motions and I know that He will catch up to me sooner or later. I can't let Harry and Ron and everyone else die in vain."

She nodded still staring off into the dark. Kreacher knew he'd follow his Mistress anywhere despite her Mudblood nature. He knew no other elves bonded to one.

Hermione turned back to face him, her face set with grim determination.

"Do you want to come with me, Kreacher? I know you don't want to be free because of how it will affect your health, but I have no kin."

Kreacher nodded, snarling "Mistress Mudblood has none. Kreacher will comes. Mistress not ill with Kreacher."

Hermione smiled slightly. She had learnt that most house elves needed a bonding to maintain their health. It would be wrong to simply leave she felt.

"I'm hoping to go back to when he was young, at Hogwarts. Maybe we can change things. If fewer die, then I could live with that. Honestly, I'm not sure when we'll arrive but we can try it. If we rip apart space and time, then so be it."

Hermione was past the point of worrying about consequences of time travel. She considered almost any outcome better than the terrible war and she knew she couldn't bear to kill a man in cold blood.

She hoisted herself up and began to eliminate the traces of their presence using self-erasing wards she had invented. When she was satisfied they had everything and were both ready, she prepared herself to do powerful magic. She wasn't quite sure she had the ability without dangerously draining herself, but she couldn't think of a better option than this. Waiting for capture because it was inevitable at this point was not a real choice.

Steadying herself, she stood with Kreacher clinging around her neck. Her hair was wild. Her clothes were dirty, but she thought they were okay for the 1940s. She knew they were slightly more sexist than now. She knew she should care, protest that she was no weak woman, scream that her choice was selfish, and that time travel was wrong and riddled with problems, but she had long since run out of energy. She straightened her back and felt Kreacher dig his nails into her skin.

It was time for the spell.

She moved her wand about her in a complicated fashion, slashing and swishing and flicking it all in quick succession whilst muttering and picturing the year and place hard. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration. Eventually she felt a pull on her insides, like a more sickening version of a portkey. The world span. Colours floated tangibly in front of her eyes, a roaring sound her ears reminding her of the time turner she'd once used. Instinctively they stayed still regardless of the urge to touch the pretty colours until they slowed gradually, and the colours became a beautiful fade of sunsets and sunrises dragging across their vision. Hermione concentrated hard: September 1944.

They landed with a sickening crunch, a fading roar and an anguished scream. Hermione promptly threw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was my first chapter of my first ever fic. I hope you like it. I have the next few chapters and ill try to post weekly.


	2. Chapter 2

It was two weeks into the new school year at Hogwarts. The first years were slowly coming out of their shells while the older years relaxed before it was really time to knuckle down for the exams. Dinner had just begun; the Great Hall was filled with gossip and chatter; the excitement of the summer had not quite worn off yet. Headmaster Dippet smiled over his students, content they were all safe. 

A scream sounded through the hall. Silence. The students were stunned. Prefects and professors frowned and began to get up. When the silence continued Dippet sent Dumbledore and Slughorn to find out the source. The bolder students exchanged baffled looks, theories over the screams forming in their minds and leaving their mouths. 

The screams began again in earnest. Dippet made the prefects stay in the hall in charge of the student body before rushing out with the Professors towards the grounds. They found an elf clinging to a girl. Her hair was wild and her leg at an odd angle to her body. The grass was dark with blood. Her clothes were covered in sick.

She saw them, a flicker of fear flitting across her face. A few students stood behind them, on the edge of the porch, prefects powerless to prevent curiosity pulling students to the scene.

She dragged herself to her feet, biting her lip to prevent screams. She whimpered in pain. Kreacher sent magic to her leg to soothe it slightly but it didn't help much.

She faced the teachers with her wand. They slowly approached, and she erected a shield. A twig behind her snapped and she whipped round faster than should be possible on a broken leg. An instinctive stupefy was hurled in that direction. 

She saw nothing. That didn't mean there was nothing there. Her brain was on overdrive, pumped with adrenaline and fear fuelled memories. The headmaster began to approach, "Miss? We mean no harm."

She flew around to face him, her eyes wide and alert, a deer about to flee.

Slowly her body began to tremble and with another snap she collapsed. Her leg splintered.

Students, for the whole school had slowly oozed out of the entrance, turned away as they saw pieces of bone fly far.

The elf stood in front of its mistress, muttering. He snarled when the professors came too close. Recognising a mediwitch, he allowed her to pass and tend to his mistress. She informed him they were going to the hospital wing.

Levitating the young witch in front of her, Madam Grey bustled off through the students.

"Stop staring," she scolded them.

Dippet cleared his throat and turned to face them, "Prefects and Heads of Houses will escort you back to your common rooms. Good night."

Satisfied that the heads would register the children he hurried off to speak to Madam Grey about her latest patient.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom Riddle lay in bed. The sound of deep breathing washed over him. Three other Slytherin seventh years slept around him yet Tom lay perfectly still, awake in the dark, thinking.

He liked the dark. It was calm. He could feel the currents of magic in the air more easily, playing with them absentmindedly, twisting them into shapes while he ruminated.

The incident with the girl had happened hours earlier. He wondered who she was. Her hair had been all kinks and frizz, not like the soft curls he wore. Her eyes had been huge with fear - almost as wide as the elf's in fact. Ah yes. The elf. It seemed strange that she dropped from the sky with an elf on her back.

She had amazing reflexes he thought. Excellent pain withstander. He decided to keep an eye on her, for surely, she'd be interesting.

Closing his eyes, Tom began to sleep, magic settling on him like a snug blanket.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione jolted awake, pain stabbing in her left leg. Mentally she checked herself over. Broken leg, bruised ribs, concussion: all healing. She reached for her wand and panicked when she couldn't find it. It was no longer in her holster. Frantically, she sat up, scanning the room while checking her necklace was still around her neck. Good.

Finally, her eyes landed on Kreacher who held her wand, muttering to himself about stupid his mistress was.

He handed her a glass of water, using his magic to rearrange the pillows. She grabbed her wand like a lifeline.

"Kreacher," she croaked, "Thank you."

The elf harrumphed. He wasn't impressed with the state her mistress found herself in. Mistress Mudblood had only recently returned to full strength but he could still see she was malnourished.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days, Mistress Mudblood."

Hermione sighed and leant back against the pillow. Her body ached in a way that showed she was getting better. It still hurt. She ignored the pain.

"What day is it?"

"17th of September 1944."

So, she mused, it had worked. She needed a decent cover story then. When she'd been planning this, she hadn't thought about that. It was unlike her, unplanned and unfocused. It felt wrong. She needed to snap out of it. She shook off some of the numbness. She remembered that Grindelwald was active across the continent at this time. She supposed that records of muggleborns had been destroyed, something Voldemort had not copied due to the laws he had enforced. Many had fled Grindewald's regime to Britain leading to an increase in social friction. She wondered if that had made it easier for Voldemort's rise to power.

As she lay there, an old man entered with a mediwitch. The two peered at her from the end of her bed.

"Ah you're awake! Excellent, excellent. You gave us quite the shock, you know. Well. I'm Headmaster Dippet and this is Madam Grey. She's been looking after you. Nasty leg you had there, you know."

Dippet had a short white beard with flecks of brown and grey. He was just taller than the witch, a friendly smile gracing his wrinkled face and reaching his sharp blue eyes.

The witch reminded her of McGonagall. Her hair scraped back into a severe bun, her clothes starched within an inch of its life and pinched cheeks as though she had just sucked on a sour lemon. She tutted at Hermione for sitting up.

"You're all healed dear, you'll just be a bit achy for the next few days. I don’t want you to overexert yourself and you must eat well my dear or you'll be in a right state."

As Madam Grey bustled around her, checking her vitals, Hermione turned her attention to the Headmaster who smiled again and sat on the chair beside her.

"Well Miss..."

"Hermione," she supplied.

"Well Miss Hermione, I must ask how you came to be here."

The young witch fell silent, staring at something past Dippet, who briefly wondered what demons she held in her past. At length, she spoke still not quite looking at him.

"The war. I'm hiding from it. I'm without friends or family. I was hoping to finish my education here."

Her tone was bitter and her eyes hard and Dippet sincerely hoped she hadn't seen as much as he thought she had.

"Well I'm sure we can arrange that, you know. Your full name please and age. Then we'll do some tests and get you sorted."

"I can buy my own supplies."

Dippet blinked. The girl was much more independent than he had expected.

"Naturally we can help if you require but first your name."

Hermione sighed internally. She had wondered how long she could get away without a last name although it seemed her time was up. She was beginning to wonder if she was out of her depth.

"Hermione Bandeaux. 18 years old. I should be in my last year, but my studies were interrupted."

Privately Dippet suspected she was older than she looked though he simply nodded and thanked her. He let her know that the sorting would occur that evening and that he had a spare set of school supplies for a seventh year. 

Hermione lay back on her pillows as she watched the wizard walk away, musing on her new house. She supposed she might make Ravenclaw as Gryffindor was out of the question after the months spent in hiding. She had never been quite like Harry and Ron, charging in to play the hero. She was sure she was no Hufflepuff. Suspicion had always been more instinctual than compassion though she did have an abundance of the latter. The four houses filled her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know some of my chapters are short but I'll post two at a time. Thank you to all of you who gave me kudos it brightens my day and I hope my work is good enough! Also thank you to Luna C. My beautiful must helpful beta.


	5. Chapter 5

It was morning when she woke up again. She reached for her wand, still in her holster, her hand curling around the familiar vine wood. The hospital wing was bright, all white with a curtain round her bed. A pile of clothes had been laid out for her, so she got up and dressed barely feeling the ache in her leg. Snorting she held up the stockings and garter belt. The last time she had worn these was with her cousin when she was 15. She needed cheering up and her cousin treated to her a new set of lingerie. At the time Hermione dreamed of wearing it for Ron before the 'Won Won' era, then it lay in her drawer for so long that she had brought it with her in a moment of weakness. It still lay tucked into the purse.

She felt both sexy and out of place when she was dressed. The stylish 1940s skirt and blouse under her more normal robes made her feel like she was playing dress up at her grandma's.

She glared at the dainty heeled shoes left for her and brought out a pair of lace up boots from her bag.

Kreacher had told her he was staying with the Hogwarts house elves and not to call her unless absolutely necessary. She wished he was here but knew that would attract far too much attention.

She peeked out from behind her curtain and saw an odd sight. She blinked twice to make sure she was seeing. Madame Grey appeared to be simpering at a boy her age. He had dark curly hair and green eyes, pale with sharp cheekbones. He smiled charmingly at the mediwitch as a young witch entered the room. She smiled demurely up at the boy who turned his smile on her too.

Though Hermione thought the boy was attractive she was sure he did not warrant this level of flirtation. She snorted again.

This time the boy turned his eyes to her, his smile still in place. She wasn't impressed and looking past to him to the mediwitch, came out from behind the curtain. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Miss Bandeaux, the Head Boy here will be taking you to see Professor Dippet with Miss Prewett - the substitute Head Girl for now," Madame Grey introduced the newcomers. The red headed girl scowled slightly, smiling again when Tom looked her way, his eyes dancing with amusement. He reached for Hermione's hand, bringing it to his lips, noticing as she flinched at his touch.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Tom Riddle, seventh year Slytherin."

His lips brushed across her knuckles. She felt nothing. She knew he was the future Dark Lord, but she was not in the mood to deal with him and the flirtatious floozies women became near him. Internally she questioned if she was just unlucky. She had really not counted on seeing him so soon with a shaky backstory.

"Hermione Bandeaux."

She turned away from him bringing her hand back to her side. Eyeing the girl who reminded her strongly of Ginny she asked, "What happened to the old head girl?"

"It's so exciting! Miss Greengrass has just made a marriage contract with Frederick Lestrange! They are to be married next week. I hope to make a match like that someday," the Ginny look alike answered, gazing pointedly at Riddle. Inner Hermione rolled her eyes.

Riddle smiled even more charmingly, "I'm sure you will."

The girl preened under his gaze.

Hermione frowned. She knew the 1940s were a little sexist, but this took this biscuit. Hopefully no one would cast their attentions on her.

Riddle offered his arm to her, startling the curly haired witch out of her thoughts. She accepted with a small smile in return to Tom's.

"Miss Bandeaux, allow me to escort you to the Headmasters' office."

"Thank you."

The three set off and Hermione allowed herself to be shown the castle as though she had never seen it before. She hmmed and ahhed at the right places in conversation as Riddle loftily noted the history of the school. He helped her over the trip stairs and through portrait shortcuts. The redhead simpered and scowled and "Oh you're so clever Tom" and "Oh you know so much Tom" and fluttered her eyelashes.

Hermione couldn't tell what was more annoying, Riddle's arrogance or Prewett's flirting. It seemed an age before they finally reached Dippet's office.

Riddle suddenly stopped, his lips twitching as Hermione stumbled. He didn't show his surprise when she didn't cling to him or when she didn't blush in embarrassment. She didn't even react when Prewett giggled into her hand. He wondered why this girl was monotone in the face of anything that required an emotional reaction.

Hermione looked up at the stone gargoyle that guarded the Headmasters office. It seemed less worn than that of her time, though the last time she had seen it was during the Battle of Hogwarts, a yellowing pile of rubble they had raced up to reach the pensieve. She shook her head, curls bouncing around her releasing wafts of the clean, lemony smell of the hospital wing. She could feel a headache coming on.

A smooth voice shook her out of her memories of disbelief over Snape and she was glad that she wouldn't be relieving the awful deaths that followed.

Looking up at Riddle she asked, "I'm sorry what did you say?"

Riddle was irritated by her lack of attention to him, covering it with a smile and shake of his head.

"Just the password, do not worry yourself. After you." He gestured to the stairs and Prewett pouted. Hermione was relieved that Ginny had never been this bad. Vaguely she questioned if it was just Prewett or all girls were like this around him and whether that was the reason he seemed slightly annoyed. He was a faceless mask whose only real emotions came from his eyes. 

Riddle smirked as he watched the new girl stare into his eyes, although it was short-lived. She turned away unembarrassed as though she simply had not realised where she was looking. It was strange that she seemed so disinterested in his charm. When she finally collected her thoughts, she turned and climbed up the stairs where the Headmaster waited. Prewett followed her with an unsubtle waggle of her hips in his face. Hiding the distaste on his face Riddle followed them until they reached a welcoming Dippet behind a desk full of papers.

"Ah Miss Bandeaux. Well hello, welcome to my humble office. How are you feeling? Better? Good, good." The headmaster strode out from behind his desk to reach her. His office was much the same as him: sleek chaos. His grey robes seemed almost tangled in the oak chair and desk, and the shelves were swamped with paperwork. It looked as though he were often in an important rush, much too busy to tidy up, papers untouched by house elves.

He flawlessly led the way back down the stairs, his robes practically caught in his ankles, followed by one scowling redhead and two amused brunettes. Through his chattering Hermione discovered that her exams were to be oral interrogations with some practical as they had no idea what level she had reached. Eventually the two heads left them as they reached the staff room.

The rest of the day was a cycle of teachers and difficult questions. She tried to remember what was not relevant yet and she was grateful for her third-year training and the excessive amount of time she had spent in the library. Answers came to her instinctively, a long-honed reflex of speaking without thinking too much made her question if she was being too clever. She wasn't sure if she should fly under the intelligence radar; Slughorn seemed delighted by her perfect calming draught, the lessons she had learnt from the Half Blood Prince serving her in good stead. She no longer felt guilty about purloining it one night after Harry had hidden it to devour its contents. It was too late to hide how much she knew. A young, auburn Dumbledore smiled at her, a slight twinkle in his eye as she transfigured both animate and inanimate objects with ease. Charms, Ancient Runes, Astronomy and Arithmancy went just as well as Potions and Transfiguration.

There were only two hitches to the exams. Firstly, Divination which she tried hard to not completely dismiss - thankfully the Professor told her he only accepted those who showed some inkling of the sight which he informed her, not unkindly, that she did not. 

Secondly, Defence Against the Dark Arts consisted of a mini duel with Professor Merrythought. She instinctively threw out dark curses, her mind slipping into a state of war briefly, she thought she saw Death Eaters challenging her and heard Bellatrix's cackling and smelled Fiendfyre and the coppery tang of blood and began to turn her wand on all the teachers not just Professor Merrythought and she was spinning around and firing hexes with immense speed. She needed to escape. She summoned a blaze of fire in the shape of a tiger, cornering the teachers. She sprinted out of the room blockading the door as she went.

Students wandering around on a Sunday afternoon were shocked to see the new girl again, hair crackling with magic, she tripped, dragged herself up, kept running. Her feet pounded across the stone and echoed about the corridors. Teachers were shouting her name and telling her to stop but what she heard was taunts and cruel jeers and the harmless calming spells that rushed past she saw as Killing Curses. She swung around the corner into the entrance hall, her plan to reach the Forbidden Forest and regroup. Unfortunately, she ran into the head boy and his gang of Slytherins. 

He was knocked onto the floor by a five-foot four bullet that he grabbed as he fell. Thoughts about how warm and small she felt on him flitted across his mind, but she was already trying to detangle herself. He smirked as she squirmed over him not unpleasantly.

"You could have just asked if you wanted to get to know me better, darling."

He watched as her eyes widened further, and she sprang up, sticking him to the floor with a mere flick of her wand. She heard Greyback sniffing her and calling her gorgeous and when Riddle broke free of her spell and caught her wrist she didn’t feel long, elegant fingers but hairy claws pawing at her. She started hyperventilating. The teachers rounded the corner headed by Dumbledore, seeing her trapped in the midst of the Slytherin boys struggling to get free. A burst of white light stunned the teenagers and Hermine collapsed clinging to Riddle.

The Professors were shocked by such a late stage burst of accidental magic; it rarely occurred to those who had begun training in magic after the age of 11. Their own exams told them Miss Bandeaux was extremely proficient which made this even more unlikely. It had been powerful too, enough to stun seven teenagers.

Dippet recovered first and began to organise the teachers. He'd have to think on this event in depth later. A few professors bustled away the many students who had gathered by the scene while the others began to levitate the boys to the hospital wing. A crowd of Tom Riddle's fan girls were particularly hard to get rid of after they saw Toms hand wrapped around the new girl's wrist and her hand clutching his arm. When they were sent off the teachers brought the last two to Madame Grey.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning graphic lemons

The mediwitch clicked her teeth. Her charge had been magically drained again and was stuck to Tom like a limpet. She disapproved of having them in the same bed, but Tom had awoken and could not detach himself either. He was being the perfect gentleman in any case, blushing at such close proximity to a witch. She wondered if it was a case of compatible magic then reprimanded herself for such foolish, romantic notions. 

The Slytherin boys had all awoken and now stood holding conference by Tom's bed despite her best efforts to get them to settle down again. Tom had dashingly assured her that they were simply concerned about him. The head boy's fan club were worrying and pouting outside the room - how tacky - no matter how often she told them to leave as visiting hours were over.

When it reached dinner she finally sent them away, reassuring them that Tom was fine. She bundled the other boys back into bed to eat and then sleep in the wing just for observation. 

It was nearly midnight when Hermione began to stir. She'd been having nightmares, but she'd been saved from Bellatrix and Greyback by a tall, dark haired boy. She unknowingly pressed closer into the warm body that was an amused head boy. When her dreams took a racy turn and he could feel her erect nipples through her blouse he moaned quietly. She squeezed his bicep and pressed herself into his groin, sighing contently at the small relief. In her dream the boy had removed her clothes until she lay just in stockings and lingerie. He grinned at her before delving between her legs.

Tom was surprised by the wanton witch squirming next to him, quickly casting a silencing spell when she moaned loudly causing Malfoy to stir. A flare of jealousy welled up in him. He wanted this soft witch to himself. Her moans were for his pleasure. He felt himself grow hard as she moved against him, lost in the throes of her dream. He cast several wards rapidly as she moaned into his ear and couldn't help his thrust causing her to arch her back and cry out. He crept his hand down to do something he hadn't done in several years. Releasing his cock, he gripped it hard and stroked up.

Hermione's dream boy had ripped her underwear off to leave open mouthed kisses on her pussy and plunge his fingers into her. While sleeping she couldn't reach her hand down as she normally did when she had wet dreams as one hand was clutching Riddle's arm and the other was trapped by his wrist. She pressed into the hard thing that felt good when she rubbed. 

Riddle groaned when he felt her wet panties pressing into his cock and rubbing against him, pushing his foreskin down. He used his hand to grab her waist. Slowly he squeezed, and Hermione opened her eyes coming face to face with a dark-haired boy who was moaning and panting heavily. Thinking this was still her dream she pressed harder and he stared into her eyes before smirking. He could tell she wasn't fully awake or he was sure she'd never behave like this - or at least not in front of him, being unreasonably disinterested in his charm. She licked her lips, reaching her newly released hand down to finger herself, watching as he growled when he felt her pleasure herself under her skirt.  
He pushed her down onto the bed, flipping her skirt up and covering her with his body. He pressed his cock against her wetness, moaning as she ripped his shirt off and hers, breasts spilling out from her white brasserie onto his chest. Neither of them were thinking by this point, lost to pleasure so she only moaned as he pulled her panties to the side and plunged his fingers inside her and curled until she was nearly clenching around him. He plunged into her, his cock grasped by soft, wet muscle and she screamed out in pain but after teasing her gently she felt better and thrust with him until they were both orgasming. His hot seed shot into her and she gushed over him. She fell asleep again as she came down.

He lay over her, recovering from the exertion. He rarely let himself give into his base instincts like this, but this witch was different to the simpering fan girls who stalked his every move. As he lay down she curled into him and he smelt lemons and parchment and earth. He fixed their shirts though it was hard to let go of the sight of her breasts. He cleaned them both of the smell of sex and sweat and the cum that lay on them with a careful spell. It felt natural when he carefully placed her hand on his arm where a bruise was flowering, and he held onto her wrist at a similar mark and she drew into him. He wondered if she'd remember this encounter at all and decided to leave two marks. One was a love bite on the swell of her breast above her heart. He knew she was powerful and hoped she'd be sorted into his house where he could mould her.

His mind ticked with thoughts of training and dominating her as he took down the wards and gradually fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Tom was rudely awoken by a shriek and a kick. He had been enjoying the warmth of a smaller body pressed against him. His Knights were standing dutifully at his bedside already dressed. His witch - for now he had claimed her - was struggling against his grip. She clearly remembered nothing of the previous night's events. Tom smirked down at her.

"Morning Princess."

She struggled harder, her wand was out of her holster and she shrieked, "Kreacher!" in a moment of panic.

The house elf popped up amid a surprised group of boys. Snarling at them he handed his Mistress her wand and magically pushed the dark one away from her.

Tom was not happy but dutifully got up, hiding his irritation, ordering his Knights back from the bed. He could not fight elf magic, it being ancient defensive magic. The house elf reminded him that she must be at least a half blood, pacifying him slightly. 

Madam Grey hastened over, summoned by the commotion. She was glad to see the two were no longer magically bound. She supposed with no small amount of disappointment that the two couldn't be magically compatible. Miss Bandeaux must have stuck them together accidentally and as she recovered she released Tom. She was such a romantic at heart. Banishing the Slytherins to a corner, she checked Miss Bandeaux's vitals and decided to keep her in the hospital wing until dinner with no visitors. That meant Kreacher had to return to the kitchens too.

"Miss Bandeaux, you suffered a huge bout of accidental magic last night and were magically drained again. Thankfully you've recovered much more quickly than before."

"Why was he in my bed?" Hermione asked, nodding as she drew the bed sheets around her. Internally Tom smiled at the sight, as he had seen much more the night before.

"You collided with Mr Riddle and were magically stuck together when you knocked out all these boys here."

Hermione glanced over to where the future Voldemort was holding court. She had been hoping to avoid arousing his suspicions and attention until she had a better-defined plan. She sighed. So far, she had: don't kill Voldemort. The man in question looked up, curious, approaching slowly with his followers when she nodded at him. When they'd all gathered around her she pushed her hair back,  
"I'm really sorry about that. I hope you're all okay."

Riddle appeared to be their spokesperson, "Don't worry yourself Miss Bandeaux. Might I inquire as to what had occurred?" His boys nodded in accordance.

She squirmed in her seat wondering what to say before settling in something near the truth, "I panicked during my Defence exam. It was a mini duel and brought up some bad memories."

He narrowed his eyes. What kind of memories would cause her to use dark hexes and run away? His charming smile grew as he told her not to worry. She didn't seem convinced when he assured her she could count on him to talk no matter what house she was in and told her that he'd show her the Slytherin common room entrance, so she'd be able to reach him. His knights seemed surprised, but he'd fill them in later. He was sure Malfoy would be pleased as he often urged Tom to secure a marriage contract. Before Tom had no need for such things but as he looked at his petite witch he wondered if he should start planning. 

Hermione thought Riddle's offers seemed insincere and she shifted nervously as his eyes lingered on her breasts and abdomen. She hoped it was just her imagination. It seemed she had attracted his attention though she wasn't sure what to do about it.

After that the boys were pushed out to have breakfast for it was still early on a Monday. Madam Grey led Hermione to a large bathroom and dressing room. A trunk lay in the corner next to a pine wood dressing table and several armchairs. The whole room was tiled in white with a large bath in the floor and a mirror on the wall. The stern mediwitch left her to bathe and told her that school uniforms would be found in the trunk. Hermione cast her own wards as soon as the elder witch left.

Months of living on the run with two boys had left her paranoid and this morning’s events had set her on edge. She remembered her graphic dream with the dark-haired boy who looked suspiciously like the teenage dark lord. Her vagina felt sore and she happily sank into the hot water albeit still concerned by what had happened last night. The water relaxed her deeply and she took her time scrubbing her scalp and detangling her curls as she tried to forget everything. Kreacher had refused to ever touch her hair as it was a mess; until she tamed it he wouldn't help.

He'd left shortly after the Slytherins, as he had informed her briefly that he had found a mate and that mating magic often overrode summons from Masters. He couldn't ignore it either, so she would be without him for the next five weeks as the ritual went underway. Hermione was surprised that she didn’t know about this from her SPEW trial, however there was very little literature on house elves. She assured him she would be fine and wished him luck. He grumbled disapprovingly before disapparating with a snap of his fingers.

The water was warm, filled with bubbles and healing herbs and that lemony smell that she loved as it reminded her of her parents dental practice. Strangely, she still felt different as she climbed the stairs and summoned a fluffy towel as though something about her had changed. She surmised that it must be a side effect to time travel, as Harry and Ron screamed in her mind: “Constant Vigilance!” She dried herself quickly, checking herself over in the mirror. A purple hand shaped mark was twined around her wrist making her scowl. Pettily, she hoped Riddle had a similar mark. Her hand flew to her breast when she noticed what looked like a hickey. She hoped it was bruise. She sincerely hoped it had not been a randy teenage dark lord. She blushed as she remembered they had slept in the same bed at the same time she had a wet dream. She sincerely hoped that she had simply masturbated intensely the night before. She knew she could become extremely sensual when she did as Harry admitted to her awkwardly once after Ron had left the tent. Shuddering at the thought of a horny Voldemort and that awkward conversation she turned her attention to the trunk. It was filled with school supplies as well as clothes and someone had thoughtfully engraved Hermione Bandeaux on the outside. Smiling slightly, she dressed similarly to the day before, her tie and robes would change colour from black when she was sorted that evening.

After she was dressed, she was visited by Dippet to tell her she would be taking every NEWT bar Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic and Divination. She was checked over again by Madam Grey who sternly informed her she was fine and didn't want to see her in the hospital wing again any time soon.

The time passed fast, and it was dinner already. Hermione was waiting in the trophy room off the Great Hall for Dippet to introduce her for her sorting. When she heard her name being called she nervously opened the door. She straightened her back, feeling eyes staring from hundreds of students, the low murmurings of gossip behind her. She stared resolutely at the Sorting Hat; upon reaching the stool she sat with her ankles crossed. It appeared even the Hogwarts ghosts were in attendance for her sorting which slightly comforted her, some things remained the same in her own time.

Steeling herself she looked around, but the only familiar faces were a gossiping Prewett surrounded by similar girls at the Gryffindor table and a smirking Riddle at the centre of the Slytherins. His smirk deepened when he saw her eyes were drawn to him and he consciously rubbed his bicep. She hastily looked away. He hoped she had enjoyed all his marks, he had looked over the purple flower against his pale arm extensively after class; matching marks he liked a lot and marking her he found arousing. He watched her with predatory eyes as the hat was placed on her head and he silently commended her blank face as the hat spoke to her. He frowned. What was taking so long? At least he had been a good judge of character: she was interesting. Eventually the hat screamed,  
"Ravenclaw!"

The students applauded politely as the witch who seemed more hair than witch glided to the Ravenclaws. She sat next to the other seventh years who made a space for her. Belatedly, she realised she was one of the few girls at the table.

A fair-haired boy sat opposite, "Congratulations. Ulric Lovegood." Hermione shivered minutely as his eyes lingered on her breasts and his slimy lips touched her knuckles. She supposed he could be Luna's grandfather, she sincerely hoped she wouldn't see too many echoes of her friends.

A dark-haired boy sat next to her also welcomed her. She didn't catch all their names but there was a MacMillan, a Chang, another Prewett and she thought a Jameson. Distantly, she thought that Molly Weasley had been a Prewett. They all took their turns to greet her 1940s style. They seemed surprised by a female in Ravenclaw.

The dark-haired boy, George Chang she thought or was it James? He smiled friendlily and offered her food as the hall settled down again.

"So, Miss Bandeaux, may I call you Hermione?"

She nodded through a mouthful chicken. She was facing the Slytherins and could feel Riddle staring at her as well as Lovegood’s lecherous looks. She felt embarrassed and queasy and questioned her mental health yet again. A small version of her in her mind told her that she had been foolish to come here, and she nodded until a mini Ron and Harry told her to keep fighting for the cause. The Hermione simply shook her head in sympathy. 

"Hermione?"

George was calling her.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry about that."

He smiled, "Don't worry. It's a typical Ravenclaw thing to be away with the fairies."

At this she hummed in agreement, a tight smile stretching her lips as her heart panged for Luna, but she couldn't think of that right now.

She continued to eat as the boys included her in conversation, though she tried not to answer too many questions. She relished a proper hot meal as most days she had none, eating only when she found food. When dinner ended George offered her his arm and his assistance in finding the common room. A horrible feeling of being watched incited her overactive senses and she looked back to find Riddle glaring at her with his eyes as he spoke to a blond boy she presumed was a Malfoy. They stood up. She shook off the feeling and let George and the other Ravenclaws lead her out of the Great Hall.

Suddenly they stopped, and she looked up to find Riddle smiling his charming smile down at her. Internal Hermione groaned. Really, she thought. She drew herself up. The Malfoy boy stood slightly behind him.

The Ravenclaw boys nodded respectfully.

"Miss Bandeaux, I have your timetable for you."

"Oh. Thank you."

She took it and briefly noted that most of her classes were with Slytherin. She turned to go when her wrist was grabbed in the same place as her bruise. Internally she winced. Harry and Ron were egging her on to curse whoever it was, but she desperately wanted to keep a low profile. She still flinched. Riddle noticed.

He smiled with dangerous eyes.

"Miss Bandeaux, may I escort you to the Ravenclaw common room? I recall I also promised to show you around the school and the Slytherin common room."

All the boys turned to look at her curiously. The head boy had never shown such interest in a girl before. Personally, Hermione wished to crawl into a hole and hide. She had never been seen as a girl before as Harry and Ron took four years to see her as a girl although she had been Harry's sister, consistently complaining about periods and the like to him. Her eyes began to water as she remembered the times she had been on her period in the tent and how Harry would give her back massages to help ease her cramps. She blinked back the tears. 

Tom watched the girl in front of him stop herself from crying. He spoke softly, "Hermione? You've had a long day."

Gently he took her arm and walked her back to the Ravenclaw tower. Malfoy and the Ravenclaws followed.

"Hermione," Riddle said lowly, "Are you okay? You know as Head Boy you can come to me with any problems you might have."

Hermione swore mentally. She needed to be alert if she wanted to stay away from this version of Voldemort. He was too charming. Why did he have to take in an interest in her? Pessimistically, internal Hermione thought, I'm probably fated to be with a psychopath.

Smiling up at him she spoke clearly, "I'm fine thank you. I'm sure you wouldn't want me bothering you."

"You can bother me any time you like," he smirked as she blushed.

Thankfully they had reached Ravenclaw tower by now and she quickly disentangled her arm from Riddle's. Turning to face him, she pushed hair back from her face.

"Thank you, Mr Riddle."

"Please call me Tom. I noticed you're in all my classes, would you like me to escort you tomorrow? We both have Arithmancy first thing. It can be terribly easy to get lost on your own," at this he smiled, and Hermione flinched involuntarily. His teeth seemed to be sharpened points although she could see he had the kind of smile her parents would show off as a demonstration of good teeth. She hated his perfect teeth even more and she hated how presumptuous he was being. 

"Oh, I'm sure one of my fellow Ravenclaws can take me?" Hermione asked turning to the rest of the boys. Chang grinned sheepishly, "Actually Hermione we all have Divination first thing."

Hermione floundered as the others nodded, "Well don't I need a chaperone?" She finally recalled that Madam Grey had insisted on Prewett as an escort.

At this the blonde-haired boy stepped forward, "Abraxas Malfoy at your service. Happily, Tom and I have the same classes too." He kissed her hand as Tom smirked at her.

"Oh."

Riddle's smooth voice poured into the room, "Is that alright Hermione? We'll meet you after breakfast at 8:00."

Hermione nodded. Hopefully she could pass herself off as boring enough for no one to interest themselves in her. The Ravenclaw boys had gone up to the common room leaving her alone with the two Slytherins. At that moment, she rejoiced the Sorting Hat had not put her in Slytherin as the two looked her over. Malfoy moved away.

Riddle stepped forward, bringing her fingers to his lips. She noticed how soft they felt as he looked into her eyes. His other hand wrapped around the same bruised wrist. He was too close. He smelled good she realised as she blocked out the sounds of Harry and Ron screaming at her to kill him; she knew she didn’t have the capacity to murder someone in cold blood. She could maim and hurt and kill defensively but she was not a killer. His eyes darkened, and she pleaded with some higher power, wishing he couldn't perform Legilimency at this age. She really needed to work on her Occlumency.

Tom thought she smelled divine. Her skin was soft, her body trembling slightly. She looked beautiful in her nervousness and he had to restrain himself from touching her hair. He smirked again wishing he could take her to bed with him again. He had slept much better than he normally did last night. Soon he thought she would be crawling to him. He suppressed images of her on the floor, knelt at his feet as he let go of her hand.

"Sweet dreams, Hermione."

Hermione nodded again. Her mouth had gone dry as she recalled her dream and how similar the boy looked to the teenage dark lord.

Tom smiled when she blushed again. He had been projecting thoughts of last night on to her. It was a form of Legilimency as first you had to become a decent occlumens. He felt himself growing hard as she stammered a good night and fled up the stairs in such haste he could see the tops of her stockings.

Turning back to Abraxas, who seemed puzzled, he started walking.

"My lord," the blonde began, "What is your interest in the girl?"

Tom smiled a wolfish smile and Abraxas gulped. Despite the tiny crush he had on his Lord he would not want to be Bandeaux right now.

Tom simply said, "She is powerful." This much was true. Accidental magic at such an age indicated a high reserve of magical power.

Abraxas ventured, "My lord, she seems in need of a little polishing." He wasn’t sure whether she was a good fit for Tom, she was certainly powerful enough, but she wasn’t quite a lady.

Tom hummed in agreement. His witch was pretty, she had curves - though thin - but her hair was excessively wild. She looked beautiful when she cursed he thought.

Abraxas continued even more hesitantly, "My lord, I - I have - ah -"

"Spit it out, Abraxas," Tom snarled. The only reason why he hadn't hexed Malfoy was because he was his closest follower. The only boy who had been curious about the new name in Slytherin, the only reason he hadn't bullied Tom. He had been Tom's first supporter.

"I have never heard the name Bandeaux, my lord."

Tom was surprised. Malfoy knew nearly all the purebloods in Europe. He suspected that Bandeaux could be a muggle name like Riddle.

"So, she must be a half blood due to the house elf," he mused.

"Well," the other boy began.

Tom growled, "What is it, Malfoy?"

"House elves can recognize non-blood relatives as kin. For example, my elf Daizy sees you as my brother. If the rest of my family were dead, well, you would own Daizy."

Tom's mind raced. He supposed this meant she could even be a mudblood. A Mudblood he had fucked.

"You will tell no one of this Abraxas. Thank you for informing me. How many other know of this kind of elf magic?"

"Very few, my Lord. Daizy said that she had not heard of a non-kin bonding in the past 200 years ago. It is unlikely as the binders must have true and deep affection for each other which causes their magic to bond involuntarily. It doesn't work if their magic is incompatible which is more often the case."

Setting Tom's interest and lack of wand he went on, "This is vastly different to romantic compatible magic, of course, although there is a theory that those who can be recognised as non-kin are far more likely to be bound romantically. In this case the two binders' magics are so deeply compatible that the two can bond unknowingly. Normally it requires some kind of collision or catalyst."

"Ah yes, it makes some kind of mark, doesn't it?" Tom remarked as the two strolled back to the dungeons. Abraxas was the only knight he held regular conversations with.

"My lord, may I speak freely?" Abraxas asked. Tom turned to him and held his chin so that the two were inches away.

"Abraxas, you are my most trusted Knight, you may always speak freely. I hope however that you are not jealous." Tom chuckled darkly as he ran his thumb over the blonde's cheek. Abraxas gulped, and a shot of desire ran through him.

"My lord?" he questioned weakly. Slytherins were not made for direct confrontation, he realised.

Tom sniggered, pressing his other hand against the slight bulge in Abraxas' trousers.

"I know all about your little crush. Don't be jealous Abraxas. I wouldn't want to hurt you."

Abraxas swallowed thickly in a mixture of arousal and fear as Tom suddenly let go of him, backing away.

"So, what would you like to say?" Tom smirked. He loved to toy with the blonde, admiring his handiwork, the flush on his normally pale face, the dilated pupils. Malfoy was usually one of the suavest people there were; it was amusing to see him so unruffled.

"My lord, I simply wanted to say that the kind of collision you had with Miss Bandeaux and the way in which you were stuck together could be an indication of magical compatibility. It’s even more likely given that you are non-kin bonded and she may well be," Abraxas said coolly, trying not to drop to his knees and beg Tom to touch him again.

"Hmmm. That is intriguing. Oh, don't worry Abraxas I won't tell about your little crush." Tom said seriously. He needed Malfoy as an ally, his family was powerful, and he actually liked Abraxas to an extent. It wouldn't do to tease him too much. The blonde was grateful he wouldn't be the laughing stock of the rest of the Knights; Dolohov, Mulciber and Avery were particularly vicious unlike his good friends Lestrange and Nott.

The two spent the rest of the walk in silence as they contemplated Miss Bandeaux. Privately Abraxas hoped she wasn't a Mudblood as Tom had never been so intrigued by another human before. He made a mental note to give Tom the books he had on the subject. As a secret romantic, he had been hoping he would be Tom's soulmate, but he was simply happy that Tom would have someone. He'd be watching Miss Bandeaux very closely to make sure she was good enough for Tom however.


	8. Chapter 8

The dormitory Hermione had to herself was big, a large, four-poster bed in the middle with an oak wood wardrobe and desk set. It was like the Gryffindor dormitories but with a desk and instead of a full red and gold coverage - which she had honestly found a bit garish - the walls were cream with blue borders and bronze accents. The whole bathroom was subtle shades of blue with a floor embedded bath. Hermione suspected that the Hogwarts dormitories often changed to accommodate the students as the Ravenclaw boys had told her they had never seen a door opposite theirs before. They had been holding conference around it when she arrived.

Her room even had a little peep hole to show her if the common room was full so that she could ensure the presence of a chaperone. She peeked through it and saw Chang and Prewett reviewing their homework breakfast. She thought about how nice it would be to study with people who were just as serious as she was; internal Hermione nodded. Sometimes it felt like dragging the Golden Trio through the work was as hard as dragging a boulder uphill only to let it go again.

She smoothed down her skirt before opening the door to the stairs. As she walked down she was accosted by Lovegood who leered at her and offered her his arm. Even though he made her feel uncomfortable, socially awkward internal Hermione made her accept. She made sure to discreetly check her wand was in her holster, smiling weakly at him as he petted her forearm. When they reached the two boys at the table she swiftly moved to sit down.

"What are you studying?"

"Just charms. It's a really hard problem so we've put our heads together."

Hermione's eyes lit up. On the run, she had spent most of her time reading; it wasn't all action, mostly there had been just quietness. Charms books were some of those she had brought with her to distract herself from the war, serving her in good stead in blocking out the locket's incessant whispering by practicing her spells, including the invention of her own wards.

"Oh! I love charms. Can I have a look?"

The boys laughed. "Don't worry your pretty head, Hermione," Chang said.

"You don't need to pretend, sweetheart, it's okay not to understand," Lovegood added, unsubtly glancing at her chest.

Hermione blushed, pulling her robes closer. She had not been around other people for months, so she found it difficult to respond. She hadn't realised that the few girls in Ravenclaw was due to girls being expected to be pretty rather than smart.

Jameson smiled kindly at her, "Let's get you to breakfast. You wouldn't want to keep Riddle waiting. Did you know you're the first girl he's taken an interest in ever? You've got a good chance of getting a marriage contract, you might want to speak to your family," he said as he took her arm and began to lead her to the Great Hall. At the mention of Riddle, Lovegood scowled.

Hermione, however, had a blank look on her face, "My family is dead." That was true. Her parents were out of reach forever and her magical family – Harry, Ron, and the rest – they were all dead or just as broken as she was.

The boys stopped in shock and Jameson rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean-"

"And I don't need to get married. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself."

The Ravenclaws laughed awkwardly, thinking she was joking, a relief to the tension but their smiles disappeared when they realised she had non-verbally bound them to the floor. She flounced off in the direction of the Great Hall. 

She knew she shouldn't get so riled up but internal Harry and Ron high fived each other. For the first time in months she smiled. Internal Hermione tutted at her, shaking her head, how was she supposed to pass off her innate knowledge of the building? Harry told her to hush, she had been brilliant. Ron chimed in saying that she had done this walk the night before and she could say she just had great sense of direction.

When she entered the Great Hall, there were few people up, it being so early. Only a few teachers, a handful of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were there. She wasn't surprised to see no Gryffindors at all as she had often been up long before the rest of her house. And of course, Riddle and Malfoy and the whole Slytherin gang were awake.

They were shocked to see the new girl walk in alone. Riddle narrowed his eyes as she began pouring herself some coffee. Standing up, he signalled Abraxas to stand up too. They walked to the Ravenclaw table where Hermione was studying her timetable. Riddle and Malfoy sat on either side of her and Hermione flinched away into herself.

"Princess, I hope you had a pleasant sleep."

Damn teen Voldemort with his stupidly nice voice. Why couldn't she have coffee in peace? She still hadn't come up with a plan and she knew she couldn't float about enjoying relative safety forever. In any case she had had enough sexism for one day. Couldn't he come back when she was better prepared?

"I did," she replied crisply. 

"I noticed you entered unchaperoned. Surely Chang at least would not have let you go alone."

She narrowed her eyes. "We had an argument."

He arched an eyebrow; she wondered why he had to look so aesthetic. 

"An argument?"

She scowled. Malfoy jumped in before they started to fight as he could tell they were both headstrong and stubborn. He was curious about the new girl too and he knew that Tom could sometimes be a little arrogant - not that he would say so to his lord. 

"What did you argue about so soon?"

She did not want to say that they had implied she was already Riddle’s, so she turned to Malfoy. Abraxas was much more civil than his grandson she thought as he smiled at her. Pushing mini golden duo to one side as they complained about trusting a Malfoy she spoke. Besides she was just recounting what happened, not getting married to the guy.

"They told me they were struggling with a charms problem. When I offered to help they implied that I wouldn't be able to, because of my gender. I stuck them to the ground as they were walking me here. I decided I didn't need a chaperone on a route I remembered perfectly from last night."

Riddle listened with interest - his witch hadn't exactly been the sharpest yesterday evening - as Malfoy questioned, "But surely that wasn't all? I mean," he added hastily as he saw her thunderous expression, "that it seems like a little bit of an overreaction."

He poured her another cup of coffee. She sighed. How much should she say? He smiled encouragingly at her and for a second she felt it was just them discussing things and that he was here to help. The months in isolation had left her craving human contact.

"Well no. They told me that Riddle had never been interested in a girl before and told me to prepare for a marriage contract. I said that I didn't need anyone to look after me."

Riddle frowned mentally. How could she not want him? He, whom women fell at the feet of? He was powerful and intelligent. He could feel in the way her magic reached out for him involuntarily that she was drawn to him. Granted it had been only two days since they had met but he had claimed her now. Hiding his irritation, as it was too soon to be too forceful with his intentions, he leaned into her.

"Hermione, they got at least one thing right," he said, and she felt his hot breath against her neck, wincing when he grabbed her bruised wrist. Stupid she thought, how could she forget he was there. He felt powerful and dark behind her and she mustered up the courage to turn her head and look nonchalant.

"Oh?"

"You are the only girl I've taken an interest in."

His smile was seductive, and his eyes sparked as he brushed his lips against her cheek and she felt that tiny spark she had been valiantly trying to ignore every time he touched her. She tried not to blush. Her magic didn't crackle in excitement, honestly, she's just jumpy.

Abruptly Tom stood, offering her his hand.

"We should get to class, princess."

Swallowing the last of her coffee, Hermione took it. Abraxas walked beside her and smiled that smile again that made her want to trust him. She felt Harry and Ron and Hermione building a wall around her mind.

Riddle led them grandly out of the hall that had filled up during the time of their conversation. They passed the four Ravenclaws who nodded at her chaperones as they ignored her. Next to her Abraxas snickered. Seeing her confusion, he said,  
"Those four have always seen themselves as superior to girls and the rest of the houses being the only students in Ravenclaw in our year. The truth is Tom can beat them at any test, so they grudgingly respect him."

Hermione returned his smile though her smile faltered as several girls who had waved and smiled at Riddle glared at her. She scowled as she watched Riddle smile at them, all charming and flirtatious. She pushed down an unwelcome flare of jealousy that she refused to acknowledge.

"May I call you Abraxas," she asked quietly.

He nodded smiling. It was a good sign if Hermione began to trust him, in his mind she was more likely to trust Tom that way. 

"Abraxas, why are they glaring at me?"

The blonde glanced about confused and then smirked in a way she had seen Draco smirk a hundred times before. She guessed it must be genetic.

"That's Tom's fan club. They're vicious I warn you. They were happy because Tom showed no interest in girls before and he smiled at them equally. Now you've come along they've been gunning for your blood."

"But I've only been here for two days!"

"Well Riddle was magically stuck to you, you slept in the same bed and he's showing you an excess of attention right now."

He clearly wasn't paying attention right now, she thought. Hermione turned away when she saw several Slytherin girls simper at Riddle. This was clearly all his fault. She checked she had her wand again before pulling Abraxas with her past the Swelled-Head Boy.

"Let's get to class Abraxas."

The blonde wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand, he was starting to like Hermione and he thought it amusing how she was clearly jealous. On the other hand, he really did not want to be on the end of Tom's wand or wrath. Hermione was storming ahead with him and he decided to take charge as she had no idea where she was going. Thankfully he saw Edmond up ahead who could act as chaperone although he had no intention of trying anything Hermione. Both Tom and Hermione scared him enough to prevent that idea.

They caught up to a lanky, dark haired boy who Hermione found herself wishing was the boy who had starred in her dreams for the previous two nights.

He took her hand, kissing it and winking.

"This is a good morning to see a gorgeous woman like you. You must be Miss Bandeaux. Charmed, Edmond Lestrange."

Abraxas looked on with horror as Hermione blushed deeply.

"Yes. You can call me Hermione," she said, as her inner Hermione locked Harry and Ron in a cupboard and began to fan herself.

"Hermione, call me Edmond," the boy said, his grin widening as he looked her over, his voice dragging over the words in a way that set her gut clenching in arousal.

"So gorgeous," he drawled as he watched her blush further and her breasts heaved, "You going to arithmancy?"

She nodded. Her mouth was too dry to say anything, and she was worried she might start drooling if she opened it. His robes were open, revealing a white shirt that clung unnaturally to his muscles, trousers slung low on his hips. He was still holding her hand, which he tucked into the crook of his arm.  
"You must be in need of an escort, gorgeous."

He looked back questioningly at Abraxas who had paled considerably.

"You coming, 'Brax?"

At this Hermione realised she needed to stop staring at Edmond so she turned to Malfoy whom she had forgotten was even there.

"Abraxas?" she said breathily, "I think I need a chaperone."

Abraxas thought she definitely needed a chaperone, no question about it. He could not believe what he was seeing; he desperately wanted to get Tom, but he feared that if he left Hermione alone with Edmond for any amount of time he would pounce. Edmond occasionally had this effect on witches, removing their underthings before they had realised what had happened. In this case he thought Hermione would welcome such a thing from her heated stare.

"Hermione, I think we should wait for Tom. We did just abandon him."

Hermione frowned. She did not want to think about the future dark lord right now. She was struggling to stop herself from moving closer to Edmond. The corridor was deserted aside from the three of them, why shouldn't she simply run her hands through his hair.

"Riddle doesn't own me, no matter how unnaturally interested he is in me."

Edmond's smirk dropped, "Tom's interested in her?"

Abraxas nodded. Edmond paled just as Tom came storming around the corner to find his witch clinging to another man. He could tell she was aroused from the way she was breathing.

Angrily, he pulled her away from Lestrange behind him.

"Tom, I had no idea -" Edmond began before a look from the other boy cut him off, pointing his wand in his face.

"Don't touch her again, Lestrange, I'm warning you once."

Edmond gulped and nodded. Tom eyed Abraxas who dragged Lestrange slightly further away from the couple. He would deal with Lestrange later.

Hermione could feel power rolling off Tom in waves as he turned to face her. She was mostly annoyed with a trace of fear. She knew she should be more scared but living through a war had prepared her for the worst. Depression was an excellent uninhibitor in her opinion. In any case Edmond had been hot and her dreams had left her in dire need of stress relief. Damn misguided knight in black armour.

Tom was relieved to see Hermione was fine, his magic sparking around him happily as it came into contact with hers. He stepped closer to her, trying not to grab her. His instincts screamed at him to take his witch away to somewhere safe and secluded. He decided he really needed to examine his feelings over this - he had never felt possessive towards a person before her.

"Hermione, Lestrange wasn't being untoward, was he?" he asked gently, his voice laced with concern.

"I was rather hoping he would to be honest." She was sure she had a death wish to be irritating Voldemort like this. She watched with detachment as his eyes narrowed.

"Really?" He snarled.

Prissily, she replied, "Yes. Not that it’s any of your business but I was rather enjoying the attention."

He stepped closer. The magic was electric between them.

"Attention? Tell me princess, is my attention not good enough?" His voice was dangerously low. Distantly she heard internal Hermione screaming at her to run away. She didn't move.

"Actually Riddle, your 'attentions' have been an unwelcome source of irritation. Might I remind you," she added bossily, "that I am not a possession and that I have known you for less than three days. That is hardly sufficient time to court someone, let alone insinuate a marriage contract."

Tom smirked as he recalled the night they had spent together.  
"Trust me princess, you know me much more - ah - intimately than you think." His voice dragged on the word and she felt a shiver run through her as he stepped impossibly close. She could feel his magic enveloping hers in a dark cloud, his breath hot against her ear and she wondered if the smell of parchment and forests was entirely him and she felt consumed with a need to touch him as he stood inches away. Intimate, she thought - that word again - yet not quite touching. Gently, so as not to startle her, he put his hands on her waist. She didn't flinch. His lips ghosted her cheek in the promise of a kiss.

When he suddenly stepped back, she floundered, falling until strong arms caught her. He brought her back up by her wrists, smirking coldly at her flushed face and her wince as he pressed into her mark.

"Princess, you need me. You'll be begging for my attentions soon, don't worry."

At this he let go of her, sweeping back to the two boys and leaving after a quick muttered conversation.

Flustered, she dropped her wand, something she hadn't done since first year. She didn't wish he would come back. Honestly. All he'd done was swoop in and annoy her since she had arrived.

Still her hands shook as she picked up her wand and she jumped at the sound of Malfoy's voice.

"Hermione? Are you okay? We need to get class."

Her "I'm fine" came out unnaturally high though he simply raised an eyebrow and escorted to class, a subdued Lestrange in tow. Hermione sighed. She really needed some alone time to figure everything out. In her mind, she had planned to observe Riddle before she decided what to do. Now she had no ideas at all. Zilch. Nada. Abraxas kept smiling at her as they went from class to class and she wished she could just confess that she needed help. She was sure that would go down well: "Hey Brax hypothetically if you came from the future with the express purpose of defeating a dark lord and then said dark lord took a romantic interest in you what would you do?" She snorted. 

Classes were a blur of ease. Slughorn was delighted. Dumbledore was suspicious. It was sad. Her arithmancy professor was impressed. The comparisons to Riddle were endless, though he didn't look at her once after the Attentions Incident. Eventually Abraxas escorted her back to the Ravenclaw common room before dinner when he told her that he'd be escorting her to class for the rest of this week until she knew the routes. Unfortunately, after that Riddle had forbidden him to do any more, not that he told Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I've been a bit tied up at the moment so expect maybe a week between updates? I'll try to update more often. Thank you to all of you who leave kudos and read this! I won't press you for reviews but I welcome criticism (I mean I'd kinda prefer to know what I'm doing wrong?). I admit that when I had 394 reviews I was happier than I probably should have been (*laughs maniacally*).  
> I hope you liked this next bit!


	9. Chapter 9

The Ravenclaw boys were still ignoring her three weeks later. Hermione still didn't have a plan. She was sat in her room doing her homework, well past curfew. She didn't need to think about the work in class, her hand shooting up on instinct, perfect answers leaving her mouth; her teachers were impressed. However, her existence was a lonely one, no girls spoke to her due to their jealousy and no boys wanted a clever witch. She sighed. She'd been doing a lot of that lately. Not even Riddle had looked at her.

The only non-scholastic human interaction she'd had today was in the bathrooms. She'd recognised the other girl as a 'friend' of the head boy's in her own year, her hair sleek and dark, perfect lips, hourglass figure; Hermione imagined just how friendly they had been seeing as they'd spoken often enough -not that she was keeping tabs on Riddle's witches, just Riddle. The girl had dropped her lipstick, a deep shade of red that reminded her slightly of blood. Hermione handed it to her.

"Thank you very much." 

Hermione nodded. She was tired, and her eyes were blank. She had potions next, so she was struggling to tie her hair back. 

"I'm Lucretia Black." She said eyeing the curly, gravity defying mass.

"I'm sure you know who I am," Hermione replied drily, giving up and staring at her hair. Why was it being so difficult today?

Black smiled. "Here let me," she said raising her wand. Hermione eyed her warily, clutching her own.

"It's just a spell. I'll plait it for now and then Friday night you have to come to Slytherin for me to do something more permanent."

It would be nice to have hair that actually behaved for once. "Do I have a choice?" 

Black smirked, "No."

"Why are you being so nice? Students haven't spoken to me outside class for two weeks."

"Riddle. I think you'd be good together. I'm sure he's obsessed with you."

Hermione snorted.

"He hasn't even looked at me since three weeks ago. And maybe I don't want to be with Riddle?"

The other girl just smiled. She'd heard Riddle asking for reports on the new girl’s movements, her friends and acquaintances. She was not actually interested in Riddle as she was now engaged to Malfoy. She'd always been more for blondes anyway.

"Do you want me to plait it or not? Your hair goes wild in potions and my family has a persistent crazy curl gene."

"It must be all the inbreeding," Hermione deadpanned as she nodded. Lucretia worked the spell, laughing.

"My aunt is also my mother's cousin. And my sister is engaged to my cousin. Toujours pur," she sighed. She was glad she wasn't engaged to one of her idiot cousins like her little sister Walburga. 

"There."

Hermione smiled, Lucretia thought her face lit up, she didn't smile much. Her hair was now perfectly tamed into a French plait with two bronze ribbons intertwined.

"Thank you."

"So, Friday?" Lucretia asked slyly.

"What time? I need all the help I can get with these curls."

The Slytherin laughed as they walked to potions together arm in arm, making plans for Friday night. 

Hermione thought she had seen Riddle eyes flick to her when she entered, so fast she assumed it was a trick of the light. Abraxas smiled at her encouragingly.

No-one else had acknowledged her.

Hermione sighed and packed her homework up. It was late, too late for a stroll to the Room of Requirement she guessed. Lately she had taken to turning it into a version of the prefect's bathroom for a long bath and a swim. The excess energy she had kept her awake. She still didn't feel safe enough to sleep too deeply, constant bags under her eyes, still thin from the malnourishment. She wished she could talk to Kreacher.

Curling up under the duvet with a book she hoped to fall asleep soon.  
****  
At the other end of the castle, Tom was awake, sat in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room. The dancing flames reflected in his eyes, so they seemed almost red. He was thinking about his witch.

She had looked pretty with her hair tied back earlier; he'd wanted to grab her and mess it up. Patience, however, was his game. It mattered little to him that she hadn't come to him yet. He knew she would soon. She was lonely, he could see it - he simply thought she would have succumbed by now. The timid smile she had given Lucretia had made her look so fragile that he had wanted to gather her to his arms. His magic reached out for her every time they were near. He could feel hers too, flickering in a quiet, tired manner but reaching out for him nonetheless. He didn’t think she noticed.

She was clever. Almost as smart as him though the competition was more of a turn on for him than anything else. He was glad for robes in class to hide his tented trousers. He hadn't masturbated since the night they had spent together, never having any time and feeling that his hand was a poor replacement for hers.

Speaking of night time activities, it didn't look like she was getting much sleep. It was to do with her past he was sure but what was her past? Was she having nightmares? Had people hurt her? The brief rage he felt confused him - he'd never felt concern for anyone before. Dippet didn't seem to know anything, neither did Slughorn, only that she’d escaped the war. There had been no further incidents after the first few days though she flinched when people neared, her wand almost constantly in her hand like a child's comfort blanket, and sometimes she stared when people spoke to her as though she wasn't quite sure they were talking to her. Maybe she had been in isolation? She definitely had no one to talk to now which he found was both a blessing and a curse.

She seemed sad. Tired. Tired like her bones were broken and each step was agony, but she kept moving on for some reason. 

She'd finger her necklace constantly and struggle with her hair. It was the one part of her that didn't seem so broken. Sometimes she stared longingly at the Gryffindor table where Weasley sat with the Prewetts and Potter. He wanted her for himself, he scowled mentally, not with some Light cretins.

She was an enigma. The house elf had disappeared it seemed, and she floated from class to class though her reflexes were as almost as fast as his own, her eyes were haunted when she cast. The only time she appeared to relax was charms. In a twisted way, it pleased him that they had the same favourite subject and that Dumbledore treated her with suspicion too.

He'd heard all kinds of rumours about her: a spy of Grindewald’s; a refugee of the war; a girl disowned by her parents. She never spoke about it although he suspected that was more because none spoke to her.

The other night he'd seen her wandering about the corridors on the seventh floor. Her hair had been soaking wet and he wondered if she'd used the Room of Requirement as a private bath. Did she know about the Room? It seemed odd like all the other things that were not quite right about her, her refusal of chaperones and the way she was more interested in books than boys. He'd hidden himself under a disillusionment charm to follow her but had lost her after a few corridors. When he next had the chance, he was going to follow her through.

He smirked as he stared numbly into the flames. Oh, she'd be in his bed again he was sure of it, he just had to wait for her to - come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I hope you guys like it!


	10. Chapter 10

Lucretia cornered Hermione in the bathroom after breakfast, time to fix her hair again with promises of a makeover before dinner. Hermione wasn't sure, she'd never had girlfriends before - Ginny had been more of a tomboy and between the war and school the only time she'd had to look nice was the Yule Ball. The two hours and whole bottle of Sleakeazy would be a huge time waster in the morning, not to mention the fact that her hair resisted most spells. She tentatively agreed, Lucretia squealed and dragged her to class.

The day was spent in class watching Riddle flirt with girls again. She had decided to watch him while she came up with plan and she wished for the Marauders' Map because all Riddle seemed to do was charm bimbos. She supposed she could follow him with the invisibility cloak, but she’d probably need to know him better for that. It would be trying to follow someone who presumably spends most of their time in the Slytherin common room. Maybe Lucretia was her way in, Harry thought? She rolled her eyes when she saw the fan club who had glared at her on her first day crowd him and giggle.

"It's nauseating isn't it." 

Startling, Hermione turned to Lucretia who nodded her head minutely at the harpies.

"You're not interested in Riddle?" the curly haired witch asked confused.

Lucretia laughed, "I'm more interested in certain blondes actually." She smiled at Abraxas who smirked and made their way over to them.

"Miss Black," he drawled bringing her hand up to his for a long kiss.

Hermione blinked. Did this mean that Narcissa Malfoy was Lucius Malfoy’s cousin? The inbreeding jokes she made on the Sacred 28 didn’t seem so funny anymore. She remembered when Harry, Ron and she had stayed up laughing at the Black family tapestry after Sirius’ death. The Golden Trio hugged in her mind and she moved on, looking at a marriage of snow pale skin, one with hair like starlight, the other the dark canvas on which the stars would lay.

"Hermione, meet my betrothed Abraxas Malfoy." Lucretia said smiling.

"Abraxas and I have met. He showed me around on the first week," Hermione replied, smiling slightly back.

"Really, I thought Riddle would do that," Lucretia furrowed her bow very slightly, fear of wrinkles eschewed any display of too much emotion.

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Honestly, Lucretia, he's not interested, I've told you."

The fiancés exchanged looks.

Malfoy began, "Hermione, he genuinely is interested in you."

"He doesn't seem interested," she interrupted as they watched him whisper into the ear of a tall, blonde girl. Hermione's eyes shifted left where she saw Lestrange standing with another dark-haired boy who reminded her of Viktor. When she smiled at them they came over.

"Hi Edmond," she grinned. Lestrange smirked, looking her up and down. Now this was more like it, she thought. Inner Hermione smirked, calculating the odds of her getting to bed for a little stress relief. The dreams were still coming thick and fast.

"Hello gorgeous. Miss Black," he said before introducing his friend, "This is Antonin Dolohov."

Dolohov. Her chest burned where a foot long scar lay. She tried not to flinch when he took her hand to his lips, purring "Enchanté" and she blushed despite herself when she felt his tongue flick out briefly to taste her skin.

"I was just about to take Hermione back to the Slytherin common room," Lucretia announced, "if you gentlemen would be so kind to escort us."

Abraxas took her hand, smiling, helping her out of her chair as Lestrange took Hermione's.

The couple walked ahead as Lestrange turned on his full charm. Hermione blushed to her roots as he caressed her hand and when they walked up the stairs she stumbled, and he held her safely around the waist.

"Are you alright dear?"

She could only nod as he kept his hand there a beat too long. She wasn't quite sure why she was reacting so strongly - maybe she was a victim to excess loneliness? When Malfoy came back and broke the mood she was glad to be reminded that she wasn't here to flirt and though she was here to stay, how much could she truly change the timeline?

"Ed, are you out of your mind?" he hissed, "Don't you remember what Tom said?"

Edmond paled slightly, gently letting her go.

Hermione however was not pleased.

"I am not Riddle's. He hasn't even looked at me within the last three weeks. If he wants me so badly he can come and get me."

She stalked off to where Lucretia was waiting at the top of the stairs and the two left together, though the latter made sure to shoot an apologetic smile at her fiancé.

"She's sexy vhen she's mad," Dolohov said. Abraxas smirked. 

"If you want to be castrated by Tom, be my guest. Pursue her."

When the other two boys were just as pale as he was, he followed the girls down to the common room. They were met by a smiling head boy sitting by the fire. The trio gulped; Riddle was sure to smile at them only when he caused pain.

"Ah hello. Have a seat, Abraxas. Dolohov, Lestrange."

They sat as he offered them firewhiskey. Politely, they accepted as their Lord smirked evilly at them.

"I saw something very interesting today out of the corner of my eye. Edmond and Antonin were talking to Miss Bandeaux. You seemed very friendly with her. I hope you have no designs on her? That would be most unpleasant."

“My lord,” Edmond began, “We were just talking.”

Riddle smiled thinly. "More firewhiskey, Edmond?"

The boy shook his head.

"Just talking, you say? At our next study group, I think you should learn a new lesson on etiquette." His smile turned cold, as his sparkling eyes bored into Dolohov and Lestrange. Abraxas was fine, he was always fine.

Lestrange whimpered at the thought of his punishment then, the creative not quite Cruciatus curse he'd been under simply for flirting with the girl on her first day of school. She'd been so willing he had thought nothing of it; he hadn't expected Riddle to be so interested.

The three nodded, Riddle smirked satisfied to see three white countenances, exactly how it should be. He turned to the blonde, "Abraxas do you have anything to report? I noticed your fiancée has become very close to Hermione."

"Yes, my Lord. Lucretia is performing a makeover as we speak. Hermione needed help with her hair charms." Abraxas was proud of his fiancée; though his marriage was arranged, he was sure he would love his wife and together they would serve his Lord well. Lucretia was soon to be told about Tom’s little circle of Knights and he was sure she would like it.

Tom smiled internally as he imagined Hermione dolled up, not that she needed it.

Abraxas continued as the other two boys took their leave at Tom’s direction, "My Lord, she doesn't think that you are interested in her. She claims that you haven't spoken since that morning." From what he had seen, Malfoy believed they would be the perfect couple. When he had let Lucretia in, she agreed, and they came up with a plan to nudge the two in the right direction.

 

Tom's thoughts took a dark turn. Hermione was his. She was supposed to come to him. She seemed like the type of witch to go after what she wanted so why hadn't she? Perhaps a gesture of affection to maintain his presence in her thoughts? Most females fell at his feet, the sharp cheekbones and piercing green eyes cutting them down. She was different, and it intrigued him, something about her that was odd as if she had all the right pieces but hadn’t been put together properly. He'd been the only different one before. The only one whose mind seemed to run on a different frequency to everyone else. He wondered what made her mind tick and hoped next time he'd get a chance to see for himself, after all his Legilimency was excellent now.

As Tom sat staring into space, the door to Lucretia's dorm opened to reveal his witch, her previously frizzy hair tamed into perfect curled waves. Lucretia was practically pushing her out the door as the whole common room stopped and stared at the new girl.

Riddle was the first to flick his eyes over her and smirk, standing up to escort her down the stairs. She took his hand, her other flying up to check her hair self-consciously. Internal Harry and Ron were muttering angrily from the cupboard she’d shoved them into as mini Hermione almost swooned. It was nice to have that kind of attention every once in a while.

He still smelled good, she noticed as he sat her down onto the couch, sitting as close to her as decently possible without sitting her on his lap. When he whispered in her ear, she told herself it was just cold when she shivered, involuntarily shifting closer to him, asteroid caught in his all-consuming orbit. She looked up to see Lucretia smiling triumphantly as she spoke quietly to her fiancé.

“Hermione, would you like a cup of tea?” Charming voice again. It was hard to remember why she still hated him, she had seen no evidence of any wrongdoings. He was flawless: good grades, impeccable style, amiable head boy demeanour. She was so tired she sometimes just wanted to give into a new life and see what she could change from here. She wasn’t sure she cared anymore, it was all so removed.

“No thank you,” she replied as quietly as he had spoken. As she studied him from the corner of her eye, she hated that he was so delightful and handsome. It was making her task ten times more difficult. Although, she wondered how lovely it would be to be looked after by someone like him, an alpha male to protect her. She shuddered at the thought of the hungry gazes Lovegood gave her and the way his touch stuck to her flesh. She leaned imperceptibly closer to the teenage boy who might one day destroy the world. 

Tom smiled as he felt her gaze burning into his side, so close yet almost touching. He settled one arm around her, the other still clutching her hand, motioning for the rest of the Slytherins to leave. After they had slowly filed out, he brought his hand to her neck, the other moving to her cheek.

“Hermione,” his voice caressing her name just as his magic was caressing hers in a soothing way. She sighed contently. She was surrounded by a forest of parchment, soft green grass for her to lay on. The part of her mind screaming at her to stay alert shut down. She imagined she was floating in this beautiful glade next to the boy who had been starring consistently in her dreams. Intimate, she thought dizzily, so terribly intimate.

“Hermione,” Tom said again as he stroked her cheek and looked directly into her eyes. Had his eyes always been so vibrantly green? Like jade that had just been hewn from the mountainside, catching the light it sparkled a thousand shades.

“Hermione,” he said against her lips this time and she was suddenly aware of how her breaths seemed to be caught in her throat, snagging like a piece of fabric, thread pulling and pulling until finally he leaned in, thread fraying and undoing the whole thing. Magics danced together in the air and the dark-haired boy kissed her and everything was a murky green and she vaguely thought that they were under the Great Lake. Or was it the Forbidden Forest? This definitely tasted forbidden. Was she still going to hell if she kissed the devil? She felt Tom in her mind telling her to shut up and a mini Tom was kissing a mini Hermione-

She jumped back, her magic still crackling though this time with anger.

“You were in my mind,” she hissed.

He smirked, “You look even more beautiful when you’re angry.”

“You’re perverted.”

“Oh Princess, so are you. What was I? The devil?”

She paled. How much did he know?

“Oh, I know enough.” His eyes were narrower now.

She snarled, lunging for him. He caught her wrist in that place that was still faintly lilac. It flared, violet dancing across her tanned skin. She stared at in horror and then at him when he rolled up his sleeve to show a matching mark on his bicep.

“You crafty bastard. What have you done to me?”

“Well, princess, we’re magically compatible.” He admired her switch from snarling lioness to a state of shock, her mouth hanging open. Her curls had gone crazy again and he sighed. She looked better like that, but to be on his arm she would have to embody perfection. He had read all the books as soon as Abraxas lent them to him, had accepted his fate long ago. The more he saw of her the more he wanted to claim her in any case. She would be so useful.

Hermione pulled away from him trying to resist the call to curl herself into his chest. She pushed down the part of her that wanted to stay, the part telling her that she would be safe, truly safe for the first time in nearly three years. She had heard legends of magical compatibility, Parvati and Lavender had gossiped about it endlessly on evening, Ginny explaining everything to her when she confessed she had not heard of it. It was a fairytale, a fantasy, you’d find your true love and live happily ever after. She thought it just as fake as the Disney films she’d watched as a child although she remembered a time past when secretly believed she was destined to be with Ron.

She marshalled her thoughts. She needed literature, it was practically her lifeblood.

“Books,” she said.

Riddle laughed, ever the sweet little Ravenclaw. He was surprised she hadn’t read about it, she seemed to know almost as much as he did. He wished he had spent more time in her mind, he’d only seen enough to discover she had been having more dreams, some not even prompted by him, and to see a tiny version of her stuffing two miniature boys into a cupboard under the stairs. Vicious little thing. He liked her venom. His magic flashed briefly, furious, as he wondered who the boys were.

“Books. Now,” she hissed at him.

He dragged her into his arms, so much stronger than she was, stroking her hair. She stiffened.

“Anything within reason for you, princess,” he crooned and despite her anger she stiffened more.

She laughed. She laughed hard, clutching his robes as he smirked down at her, amused. 

He whispered, low, voice brushing against her ear, hand still in her curls, “What’s so funny, princess?”

She was gone. She hadn’t laughed in forever and it was like something snapped inside her, everything so absurd. She was standing with the man who would literally set the world on fire. The heir of Slytherin. 

“You said something unbelievably Slytherinesque,” she said, trying to catch her breath.

Tom looked down at the girl who was now leaning against his chest, discreetly breathing him in. Progress. It was amusing to see her come so undone, the tension leaving her body. He laughed with her, low chuckles vibrating through her body.

Slowly, she sobered up as she felt his slow rumble. It was so – appealing. She looked up at him. His green eyes shone with brilliance. She so wanted to give in. The dark lived in her too now. She sighed.

“Books,” she smiled sadly, “books, now please?”

He chuckled again, “Desperate to get to my room aren’t you, princess?”

She scowled, allowing herself to be led to his dormitory where Lucretia, Abraxas, Edmond and Dolohov were waiting, his hand was still wrapped around her wrist. Mini Hermione felt secretly pleased to be taken care of. She’d been looking after herself since she was small, fierce independence was such hard work, as well as practically mothering her best friends, planning for them for years. She was the one with the plans behind Harry’s ideas. She had loved how Viktor had looked after her, wooing her, all intense eyes and flowers. He’d carry library books for her, ignoring her protests that she could do it, mumbling only chivalry in his adorable accent.

But Riddle was something different, something else; she could feel dark power swirling in the air when she concentrated hard and when she tentatively poked it with her own it seemed to caress her, sending goose bumps across her skin. Riddle pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head and she struggled weakly to be free. With a jerk of his head, the others were dismissed, a smirking Lucretia winking at Hermione as she left with Abraxas.

When the door clicked behind them, Riddle reluctantly let go of her, lounging on the bed. He flicked his wand and the door locked. Hermione stood there awkwardly, clutching at her left arm. Mini Ron and Harry were trapped deep in her subconscious; a tiny Hermione wasn’t sure what to do – everything about Tom in this moment assaulted her senses and screamed sex. She turned away from him, towards the bookshelf. 

Smiling involuntarily, she ran her fingers over the spines. She felt herself calm down with each lungful of old leather and parchment, gladly drowning out the alluring earthy scent that was all Riddle. 

Riddle watched his witch relax as she stared at the books, appraising her body and her mind. He grew hard at the thought of fucking her against the bookcase. He smirked as he looked at the books that lay on his bedside table, the books she was looking for.

“Hermione,” he called, reaching out with his magic and yanking on hers. She flew backwards into him and he caught her so that they were spooning.

“The books,” he whispered, “I have them here, princess.” He pulled her closer and she panicked slightly at the feel of his hard member pressing into her. Sensing her unease, he released her slightly. She pulled away from him and turned to face him.

The version of her in her mind had gone into meltdown, this handsome man was kissing her and manhandling her in a way that aroused her and made her feel safe, and yet he was Voldemort, her worst enemy. Although in all honesty she was more afraid of Bellatrix and Greyback, having never dealt with Voldemort in the flesh. She wanted to cry and just confess everything to him and have him look after her. She wanted him dead. She didn’t want him dead. She wished none of this was her problem. She wished she wasn’t so strong and righteous all the time. She wished – she felt dark magic settling over her, swirling into shapes, a heart over her chest. She smiled sadly up at Tom. Oh, she wished, he’d never taken an interest in her.

Wordlessly he handed her the books. She turned onto her front to read them as he played with her hair and drew shapes into her back. He wanted to tame her hair; clearly, whatever Lucretia had done hadn’t worked. He was pleased that she wasn’t so easily broken but her magic reacted too strongly with his. He passed his hand over it, watching as it plaited itself and then drew up in ringlets, an elaborate bun forming on the top of her head.

Hermione felt content as she felt her hair being played with, soothed and relaxed in that special way whenever people play with her hair. It had been so long since she had been hugged, she knew physical contact was important for mental health. Slowly she fell asleep, her breath deepening as she curled into Tom and the book.

Tom noticed when she fell asleep. Carefully, so as not to disturb her he removed the book from under her.

“Daizy,” he whispered. A quiet crack sounded and found a small house elf who was not Daizy. Tom’s brow furrowed. He recognised this elf as Stella.

“My apologies Master Tom, Daizy and new elf Kreacher is having an elf marriage. Stella can help yous instead.”

He wondered if Kreacher was Hermione’s elf.

“Stella, could you please go to Hermione Bandeaux’s room and get her things for tomorrow, clothes and anything else she’ll need.”

“Yes, sir right away,” the elf bowed.

When she had gone, Tom summoned his pyjamas. He generally slept naked, but he was sure Hermione wouldn’t appreciate it. He placed her under a sleeping charm, before stripping her down to her lingerie and undoing his intricate hair charms. He noticed his mark on her right wrist, but there were two others he hadn’t noticed before. A long scar that stretched across her breasts and a crudely carved word on her left arm. His magic bubbled angrily. Who dared to mutilate her? Mudblood, she may be, but she was his. Mudblood hate was a necessary part of pureblood politics he needed to control his followers. Her magic seemed to hug his and he relaxed slightly; he’d ask her in the morning who had hurt her. He’d kill them for hurting his princess. He put her into pyjamas before vanishing her underthings and tucking her into his bed. He dressed in another set of flannel pyjamas, unlocked the door and crept into bed beside her before waving his hand to activate the wards around his bed that had been constantly improved upon since his first year.

Smiling as he felt Hermione’s magic curl around his enveloping magic and her body press into him, he didn’t will away his erection, simply going to sleep with his arms wrapped around her. He was in for a good night’s sleep, he was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the latest. Let me know what you think if you want or if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes (i didnt have time to beta sorry).
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, i moved to a new city to start uni!  
> ALso thanks to all those who commented, you kicked my butt into gear. I also appreciate the kudos <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the latest chapter, sorry it took so long. I have edited all of the previous chapters, most of them have been simply adding commas but I would definitely read the one before this again as it has had the most rearrangement.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this! Also Lemons.

Hermione curled into her pillows, she liked to hug them while she was asleep. They smelled especially good this morning and she’d been having such a good dream. The dark-haired boy had gently pushed his fingers past her panties while they lay in bed together. She moaned sulkily, he’d left her high and dry again this morning. He always saved her from one of her war infested nightmares before claiming his reward. Her hands reached down the soft flannel to begin her wake up call, circling her clit and slowly stroking herself. She moaned and bucked her hips as she pushed one of her fingers down, as her nipples were pinched, and her clit rubbed. She pulled her trousers down – no wonder she was so hot she normally wore shorts to bed – before turning over to start riding her hand. The pillow under was hard and warm and moaned back when she rubbed.

Her eyes flew open.

“Good morning to you too, Princess.” Riddle grinned up at her, one hand up her top and the other on her ass. Hermione tried to scramble away but he held her tighter, squeezing her cheek as he pulled her in closer.

“It’s still early darling, there’s no rush to get up yet, plus you were having quite the dream. I must say it was rather enjoyable,” he continued, grinding her down on to his hips as she bit back a whimper. He could see she was scared, yet she was so wet on his hard cock. She struggled against his hold, grabbing at his arms and trying to rip herself out of them. Petite, he thought, she was so much smaller than him physically. He easily overpowered her and flipped them over, settling over her waist and pinning her arms over her head with one hand.

“Let me go Riddle.”

“You can call me Tom, Princess, we’ve known each other so much more intimately. Besides you are my magical mate.”

As he said the last word Hermione was truly terrified. His nostrils flared, eyes devouring her, and she felt very much like prey. She tried to buck her hips, but he simply pressed his closer, so she could feel all of him against her sex. She whimpered.

He nuzzled her neck with his nose, laying little kisses on her jaw.

“Don’t be scared pet. I won’t hurt you, I just want to ask a few questions, but they can wait pet. First, I want to finish your dream, it was so good, wasn’t it?”

“Stay out of my head Riddle.” She looked glorious like that, pinned under him with her wild hair and wide eyes like some kind of forest animal. Her chest was heaving fast and when he let his fingers simply brush against her lips she jumped the tiniest bit. He leant down a pressed a slow kiss to her lips, gently taking her bottom lip into his mouth and biting hard. She jumped again making his cock twitch against her.

The little whimpers she kept trying to hold back were delicious as his fingers leisurely caressed her outer lips, circling the two places she wanted his fingers most. He whispered a spell against her neck, freeing her from her borrowed pyjamas.

Hermione shivered slightly as she felt chilly morning air hit her nipples. She watched with some detachment as Riddle – no Tom she supposed – took one into his mouth and sucked. Mini Hemione was at a loss, Harry and Ron were lost to the deep recesses of her mind, and she was such a mix of lonely, exhausted and horny that her brain couldn’t cope. She was simply enjoying his ministrations. All she could feel was the pleasure he brought and as he added one finger, then another and another, could only hear the way he praised her - “good pet, good girl, moan for me princess”.

She was lost when he vanished his own clothing and his touch felt unerringly good. He lay his skin on hers and it seemed to burn, pulse with a need to consume and be consumed. He was frantic now too, pulling her legs apart and lining himself up before entering her. It stretched her more than his fingers in a delicious way. It felt right.

“Princess, I love your tight cunt. You innocent little princess, you’re so wet,” he growled low next to her ear as he pulled her legs around him and began pounding into her as she moaned and keened, digging her nails into his back and mumbling incoherently.

“Do you need to cum princess? Ask me pet. Beg me to let you cum.”

“Please -” Her words cut off by long moans.  
“Beg me pet, beg me now.” He wrapped his fingers around her throat as he fucked her and could feel himself nearly cumming as her pussy walls fluttered around his cock.

“Please, please let me cum, please – oh!”

He rubbed her clit, whispering “Cum now Princess.”

She came loud with whimpers and moans and so many “Tom”s as he came into her, shooting his seed deep in her pussy. As they calmed down, he kissed her on the lips, hard and brutal, clutching her wrist. She kissed him back just as hard, squeezing his bicep until they were both mixing pain with pleasure. Their kisses gradually became gentler, less biting and squeezing and more tiny caresses. When he rolled off her, she seemed to come back to her own mind and realise what she had done.

She sprang up, summoning her wand and grabbing a blanket to cover herself with. Tom grabbed her wrist, “Hermione, you can stay, there is no rush.”

“I – um – I have an essay for Slughorn to do, I just remembered. Terribly sorry, must dash,” she blundered, her voice indignant and trembling as she tried to remove her wrist from her grip, “If you could just – my clothes– ow – I need them – let go! You’re hurting me Tom! You know one day my wrist will be permanently damaged-”

“Yes, from the overexertion, I know,” he cut her off, grinning wickedly up at her. He admired the way her cheeks flushed as he projected thoughts of her hand wrapped around his cock. Legilimency was terribly amusing.

Exasperated, Hermione wished his hand would unclasp itself and her skin suddenly heated so that his hand burned. He let go with a yelp, following as she rushed out from the curtains into plain view of the three other Slytherin boys in various states of undress. 

Lestrange had just come out of the bathroom with only a towel around him, slung low on his hips so she could see the dip of his v-lines and a dark line of hair running down his sculpted chest. He almost dropped the towel in shock at seeing her there. Blushing, when she realised she was staring she whipped around to see Dolohov in boxers, his back covered in little scars. He winked lasciviously at her. She turned again to see Abraxas, thankfully in pyjamas, lying in bed, lifting a sleeping mask from his eyes.

He blinked twice, “Hermione? I hope Tom hasn’t been improper with you.”

She blushed even deeper at the thought of what Tom had just been doing to her. She shook her head, “No, I just fell asleep and I was so exhausted he let me sleep here.”

Abraxas hummed, nodding his head as though he didn’t quite believe her. Her hair was wilder than before and she jumped as Tom got out of bed and moved towards her.

“Thanks! I’ll just be going now!” she said hastily as she turned back to the door, blushing at the sight of Edmond again and the way droplets fell from his wet hair and ran down his chest.

“Princess,” Tom said next to her ear as he folded her into his arms, “You’re wearing a blanket. You can’t go traipsing around the school in that. Be reasonable.”

“Well whose fault was that Riddle,” she spat, angry now. “You took advantage of me!”

“You were hardly unwilling, Hermione,” he said, laying little kisses against her neck as she struggled in his arms. 

“Tom?”

“Yes, Abraxas?” Tom turned them to face the blonde. “Stop squirming princess, and stop looking at Lestrange. You’re practically drooling over him,” he added in a growl.

Abraxas was not sure what to say. He could tell that they had been doing improper things, sharing a bed together. He wondered if this happened nearly a month ago, when they had been trapped together. He didn’t want to anger Tom, but it was clear that Hermione was upset. Besides it had been instilled in him that if you were serious about a lady you had to keep her virtue and treat her with respect.

He made a decision. “I’m sorry Tom.”

His Lord’s eyes narrowed, and Abraxas winced as he knew he would be punished later. Regardless Abraxas stunned his Lord a and the other two boys in the room. He summoned a pair of pyjama bottoms, wishing Tom was not so forceful. Abraxas had come to care for Hermione, especially after how he’d seen how lonely she was and how Lucretia had talked of her to him. He passed them to Hemione who sniffled gratefully as he turned around to allow her some privacy.

“I’m decent,” she said timidly, “Thank you.”

“Hermione,” Abraxas sighed, “He shouldn’t be so improper to you if you’re not bound by a betrothal contract. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”

“Not quite, but I was only half awake when we did and at first I wanted to leave.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. She seemed so utterly broken Abraxas thought, like a small boat cast adrift though he used to see her as in command of herself. Strong and proud, she was normally. He led her to Lucretia’s room.

They knocked on the door and Lucretia let them in. The other Slytherin girls had left a while ago for breakfast.

“Hermione? Are you okay honey?” Lucretia looked bewildered at her fiancé as she led a now crying Hermione to the bed. Abraxas took her aside and briefly told her what had happened and his speculations in hushed tones. Lucretia eyes danced with a visible anger. She promised to look after Hermione for the rest of the day and make sure she took a contraceptive potion. Abraxas and herself were no strangers to sex, though they made sure they were protected against any kind of accident.

Abraxas kissed her on the cheek, marvelling at how lovely she looked, “I’ll make sure Tom gets engaged, my love, don’t worry.”

He left, crossing the hall to find what awaited him in the form of a furious Tom Riddle.

Lucretia dressed Hermione in her own set of clothes before taking her to the safest place she knew. Abraxas had once mentioned it to her, a room where what she needed would be provided, and though she liked Tom, he was extremely powerful and Head Boy. He could enter Ravenclaw tower just to come looking for this girl.

Hermione had stopped crying as they walked up the many twisting steps from the dungeons to the seventh floor. They paced together, both willing hard for a place where Tom could not find them, a place with books and comfort. A small, worn door appeared, not shabby nor elegant, but with an air of understated comfort. They entered, the door disappearing behind them into smooth stone wall.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long delay, if you're following my other work you'll know I've been extremely ill lately. I've currently started writing a little everyday but I also have exams coming up.
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter!

While the girls began their day holed up in the Room of Requirement, Tom glared at Abraxas in the dungeons. Lestrange and Dolohov were pissed but knew that Abraxas would get his.

“Abraxas. Where’s Hermione?”

Bravely, Abraxas lifted his eyes to his Lord’s allowing the latter full access to the events that transpired and his thoughts on the matter. How he hoped that Tom would understand that Hermione was a powerful witch who deserved better treatment, how he should court her first despite both of them knowing those with magical compatibility were rare and had to be near each other near constantly for their sanity.

His Lord’s face didn’t flicker.  
“Leave, Edmond, Antonin.”

Inwardly, Tom was surprised at how Abraxas felt. Seeing the way he treated Hermione through his eyes had been an – interesting – experience. He had never figured marriage into his plans and yet he couldn’t bear the thought of her being unattached once they graduated. He liked to keep all his things near him while he slept, and she was no different. At the end of the day he’d meticulously clean his room, the wandless magic he’d developed as a child kept him and his room free of dirt, so he no longer scratched himself raw. He felt naked when free of his wards and now he felt naked without her nearby. He wanted her to sleep next to him every night, but Abraxas was right: it wasn’t “proper”. He needed that for his image.

Abraxas had started to worry about what inventive punishments his Lord was coming up with. He was thankful Riddle had been merciful with his Legilimency as his own mind was so open. 

She would need some kind of statement piece, a ring perhaps? Slytherin’s locket would be perfect aside the fact that he didn’t have it and she’d probably refuse to take off that bloody necklace.

“Abraxas, get up. We’ll be late for breakfast.”

“My Lord?”

Riddle looked down at the shaking blonde with irritation. 

“Get up. We’re going shopping.”  
“My Lord?” Abraxas asked, scrambling to right himself.

“It is a Hogsmeade weekend is it not?” Tom rolled his eyes as he dressed himself with a wave of his wand. His blonde companion hurriedly followed suit, at a loss as to what was on his Lord’s mind, only thankful that he was not in searing pain.

Tom was already striding out the door, adjusting his robes over his suit. The two bypassed breakfast in favour of an early start to the local wizarding town, Tom had no prefect duties for once so he was free to explore for the whole day. 

It was a gloriously sunny day, though cold for it was nearly November. The two boys wrapped their cloaks tightly around them as they started down the footpath to the nearby village. Tom breathed in deeply, the smell of charred wood lingering in the air. He took in Abraxas’ extremely stiff, formal posture with a slight smile. The best punishment for his right-hand man was leaving him in a state of anxiety, wondering when he would be punished and why Tom was biding his time. The brunette touched the edges of the others mind, satisfying himself that he was indeed agonising over Tom’s behaviour.

As they reached Hogsmeade’s iron gates, Abraxas plucked up the courage to inquire where they were going.

Tom smiled, “We need to go to a jewellery shop.”

Abraxas raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“I realised what Hermione needs to come to terms with is that she’s all mine. If we get engaged, then everyone will know.”

The blonde nodded in response. 

“Spit it out Abraxas, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

“I wouldn’t want to question you, but are you sure she’ll agree?” 

Encouraged by Tom’s thoughtful expression, he continued, “She knows you like her at least a little now, but she has seen you flirting with other girls, multiple times. Not to mention the fact that you’ve never been on a date and you didn’t speak to her for three weeks.”

Tom scowled, “She has to accept me. We are mates.”

Abraxas nodded, conceding, “That does not mean she has to marry you, you just want to marry her. There have been cases of mates marrying other people but maintaining an affair with each other.”

His scowl deepened as he listened to Abraxas, his imagination ran wild, images of his woman with someone like Edmond flashing through his mind. The air around him crackled with tension.

“Tom, calm down, there are people around,” the blonde whispered, “Besides, all you have to do is make a plan to woo her and show her why she should marry you.”

The magic in the air dissipated as he thought; plans were his forte. Waiting for her to come to him clearly had not worked, so he resolved to try a different tack.

***

 

Hermione watched as the sun slowly fell from the sky behind the low lying fog surrounding the forbidden forest. Books lay scattered in front of her across the table along with the crusty remains of several sandwiches that the Black family elf had graciously brought up for them.

Lucretia watched Hermione’s blank eyed stare worriedly as the Room of Requirement gradually lit its lamps.

“Hermione,” she said, tapping the other witch gently on the shoulder. She turned to face Lucretia, masking her face with an inquiring expression.

“We should get to dinner, it’s late.”

“I’m so tired. I really just want to go to sleep. I don’t feel very well either,” she replied, giving a half smile. 

“Okay, let’s get you back to Ravenclaw tower, I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Mmm.”

The pair began packing their books away as two doors appeared each with a sign indicating it led to the Ravenclaw or Slytherin common rooms.

“Perfect!” Lucretia exclaimed, “This room is even better than Abraxas described it. You’re looking a little pale, Hermione, do you want me to escort you back?”

Hermione shook her head smiling, “I’m just exhausted. I’m still processing the repercussions of my mate bond with Riddle. Don’t worry about me. Thanks for spending the day with me though.”

“I truly enjoyed it, now get yourself to bed.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who comment and leave kudos, every time I see an email saying so it brightens my day :P hope you all have wonderful days and enjoy this next chapter.
> 
> WARNING: the chapter after this one deals with some pretty heavy depression issues and talks about suicide

The air was still in Hermione’s room, dust particles hanging heavy in the sunlight as though it were a stifling summer day. It was warm in the room, maybe a little too warm but the sun came from a brisk November sun. Hermione herself didn’t see the dust motes or the morning sun, closed off in her bed, curtains drawn, wand in hand, asleep.

Night fell, the moonlight was the sunrise she woke up to, dragging one curtain open. It took her an hour to sit up, another to manage her way to the bathroom. She padded to the toilet, avoiding the mirror, and fetching water before dropping back into bed. A book flew out of her beaded purse with a weak summoning spell. She turned on the light – no energy left for lumos – but her eyes only stared at the page, her brain couldn’t quite turn the words into meaning. The spellings, which had always come easy to her, seemed odd and the words foreign.

Eventually she drifted off again, surrounded by pillows, cuddling her wand and a book.  
****  
Tom got up early out of habit. He was one of the first at the breakfast table, taking his usual seat. Every morning he would have two black teas, the first with his mundane breakfast of porridge and the second he would make just as the papers arrived. Around this time most people also made it to breakfast, and he would appraise them whilst reading his paper. It was also around this time that Hermione usually came to breakfast. 

For some reason, it bothered him that she didn’t always arrive at precisely the same time every day. Sometimes she only had coffee and literature but other times he had watched her devour an entire English breakfast. He always made sure to leave after her because he disliked being early to class unless he had some special purpose. 

Today, however, he stayed until the very end of breakfast, a boot-licking Abraxas by his side, before he accepted she was not coming and let his ally drag him away. Perhaps she had simply skipped breakfast and gone straight to Charms, to discuss something with the professor? He knew it was her favourite class, it was one of the rare times when her eyes lit up. 

She was not in charms. He scanned the room when he arrived, but she didn’t appear no matter how hard he looked. She didn’t burst into class late, flush on her cheeks, hair wild, with some kind of reason. Every minute she wasn’t there he grew more irritated. She had never been late without reason before, and he was sure she had never missed class. He was so lost in his thoughts that when the professor called on him, he shouted back irritably.

“Mr Riddle! I have never seen you so insolent, what on earth is the matter? This is no way for the Head Boy to behave.”

Immediately, Tom slipped back into his smooth persona, “My apologies, Professor Degueurce, I profess I am feeling quite unwell this morning, but I didn’t want to miss your class, it is after all my favourite.”

“Well you had better get to Madam Grey then Tom; don’t worry I’ll write you a note to be excused for the rest of the day. I understand your diligence, but I’m sure you’ll catch up. You know where my office is? Excellent, now kindly stop interrupting my lesson.”

Tom smiled, elegantly gathered his things with a wave of his wand and set off to a chorus of soft sighs from admiring girls. He knew he had to visit Madam Grey to back up his story, though maybe the healer was looking after Hermione. She did have serious magical scars, not to mention the weak way her magic felt. What if she wasn’t there? Tom frowned slightly, lines barely marring his face; he would have to look for her in Ravenclaw. 

He pushed open the heavy oaken doors as he reached the Hospital Wing, and was greeted by a stern voice, “Come in, come in, what is it now dear?”

The mediwitch looked up from stocking the potions cupboard.

“Oh Tom! I didn’t see you there! Are you feeling alright? No more of those nasty stomach bugs?”

Tom grit his teeth at the reminder of the effect the filthy orphanage had had on him.

“I was just feeling a bad headache coming on this morning, but I really didn’t want to miss Charms class.”

She clucked her teeth, smiling, “You work too much, Tom. Now go take the day off and rest up. The Head Boy should be a good example of health and knowing when to look after it. Now run along, go and rest!”

Tom smiled flirtatiously, “I’ll do my best.”  
****  
Some time later, a disillusioned figure made their way up the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower. He flawlessly answered the answer to the riddle given before making his way up to the seventh-year dormitories with no difficulties. Tom had heard that Gryffindor prevented boys from entering the female rooms. Red blooded idiots, he thought disgustedly.

There was a blue door at the top that listed his lady’s name. As his magic flared with excitement at the idea of seeing his princess again, it encountered several intricate wards. It took Tom the better part of an hour to untangle them and take them down without setting off any alarms to alert Hermione herself.

When he finally pushed open the door, he was hit by Hermione’s sweet scent, lemons and earth and herbs, and for a second he smiled at the sound of gentle breathing. He pushed back the curtain, expecting to find her asleep, hoping to steal a kiss; he didn’t let the surprise show on his face when he saw two tired eyes staring up at him from a pale face.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW suicidal thoughts, mental illness, depression

“Riddle.”

The two eyes blinked. Tom found it disconcerting that there appeared to be no emotion behind them as though her very soul was missing. Tentatively he reached his magic out to brush against hers, and for the first time in a long, long time he felt a little afraid. Her magic was barely there. 

“Hermione,” he said, gently brushing her back from her face.

“Look. I know we’re both curious.”

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the bed. She acquiesced, and he sat down. 

Gently, just as when they had kissed he slipped into her mind. This time though, the mini Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Where before he had seen groves of lemon and parchment forests, he saw only desolate earth. A vast ocean lapped against the shore. It was eerily calm. There was no wind, no sun, simply a grey sky so it was impossible to tell where the ocean ended, and the sky began. He felt Hermione’s magic calling to him from the ocean and he waded into it. He began to swim determined to reach her, but a deep sadness seeped into his bones like a horrid chill. He felt so alone and cold that his limbs became limp. He let the ocean push him back to the shore before slipping out of her mind just as gently.

Tom felt uncomfortable. He normally was so confident in his magic, but he didn’t know to fix her. He couldn’t. He cast a warming charm on the room.

“Have you eaten?”

She shook her head before closing her eyes. Tom called Daizy to his side who took one look at the girl with large worried eyes before returning straight away with Kreacher.

“Mistress Mudblood,” Kreacher snarled, “You is ill.”

Tom looked on amused as Daizy gasped.

“Hello Kreacher,” Hermione said, opening her eyes.

“Kreacher! You is disrespecting the Mistress!”

Hermione smiled, though Tom felt it looked amiss on her face, “Don’t worry, I’ve been called worse. Who are you?”

Kreacher grunted disgustedly as he began to examine his charge.

“I’s Daizy, Miss Hermione. I’s Abraxas Malfoy’s personal elf. Kreacher and I recently bonded!” The elf smiled proudly with every sentence she spoke.

Tom observed the interactions with curiosity. He had never seen a witch, or a wizard hold such lengthy conversations with house elves before.

“Congratulations, Daizy. Are you enjoying married life with Kreacher?”

Daizy nodded her large head.

“I’m glad,” the girl smiled.

Kreacher spoke accusingly, “Has Mistress been eating?”

There was a lengthy pause.

“Stupid Mistress Mudblood. Polluting the line with mudbloods and halfbloods and now starving herself to death. May as well have stuck with the blood traitor.”

He kept grumbling as he told her not to move and that he would be back with soup within half an hour. Daizy disappeared with him, leaving their charge to clutch her head in pain at the loud sound.

She closed her eyes as Tom remained perched on the edge of her bed. He hadn’t felt so awkward in a long time, he normally knew just what to do. But Hermione’s illness was clearly in her mind and he didn’t know how to cure that.

“Ask your questions, Tom.” 

She spoke without opening her eyes, her voice a whisper. His lips parted, but where to start? Besides the fact they were mates he knew nothing about her.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Hermione Jean Granger. I’m a muggleborn. I was born in 1980 and I made friends with a lovely boy.”

Here she smiled. Tom only listened, surprised.

“He was marked by a dark lord, who he had defeated as a child. But the dark lord came back. He kept trying to kill my friend because of a prophecy. That stupid prophecy cost my friend his life. The dark lord took over the whole of Britain after several chilling wars. So many people died. My friends… I had obliviated my parents to protect them. I was alone, on the run. I was dying and Kreacher came to save me. I was tired of running. So I came here.”

“Why?”

She opened her eyes, “To stop the dark lord. He was insane. So many people died in the name of blood purity and there was barely anyone left bar a bunch of inbreds. Half of them were crazy.”

She sat up and laughed remembering Bellatrix. Tom was scared. The way she looked slightly unhinged. She pulled off her top to show him the scar there.

“See this,” she smiled, “Dolohov. When I was 16 my chest was sliced open. See this carved into my arm? They tortured me. She tortured me, Edmond’s daughter in law. She loved the dark lord.”

Her fingers traced over the crudely drawn letters again. It was red and angry as though she had been torn into yesterday. She leaned in close to his face, stroking his cheek.

“Do you want to know?” she whispered, searching his eyes for something. He nodded, afraid that he already knew the answer. He slipped into her mind again as she showed him everything. Harry telling her about Quirrell, her reading about the war and then her fourth year when Harry arrived clutching Cedric. How they fought at the ministry and then how they fought at Hogwarts. Looking for pieces of someone else’s soul. Her being tortured on the floor at Malfoy Manor. Her screams reverberating through the house. And the monster she saw: a snakelike man, red slits for eyes and eerily graceful way with his wand. 

Tom had seen enough but he stayed in her mind, morbidly fascinated. She showed him Ginny telling her about the boy in the diary. How lovely he was. He saw how the locket called to her, how the soul in it spoke to her. The cup she destroyed and that innocent first kiss.

Tom jerked back. He was horrified.

“It was me,” he whispered, “I hurt you.”

“I don’t expect you to change,” she said, lying down. She was exhausted, emotionally numb. Everyday she wanted to leave the Earth and take him with her. But she couldn’t be sure that that would fix things.

“I’ll punish Antonin and Edmond.”

“Why? They didn’t hurt me. Not yet. You are not Lord Voldemort, not yet I think. But you will be soon.”

Kreacher came back and helped his mistress to eat soup while Daizy set about cleaning the room. Tom simply sat in silence. He had always known he was right, had never doubted himself but now he wasn’t sure. Did he want a bloody war in which very few people were left? He wanted to make a paradise of the Wizarding World.

“You should do something constructive about your anger. Join a club or something.”

She snickered imagining the Dark Lord doing art therapy. He looked at her amused.

“Lord Voldemort does not simply do knitting.”

Hermione spat out her soup.

“Clumsy Mistress, making things just as dirty as her blood.”

“Sorry Kreacher,” she said. She couldn’t manage a simple vanishing charm.

“Where do you go at night? When you have wet hair?”

She grinned, “I go swimming. I can’t sleep. Kreacher don’t look at me like that, you know exercise is good. Besides do you want me addicted to dreamless sleep?”

The house elf sniffed imperiously and disapparated.

“Sorry Miss!” Daizy said before leaving after her elf.

Tom fed her the rest of the soup as they chatted quietly about swimming. She used to go with her parents who called her a regular little fish. She supposed it was why she hated flying. Tom laughed, describing his first attempt on a broom. It had been a train wreck that ended with the Giant Squid depositing him on dry land. The orphanage used to take them to the beach, but they were not taught to swim.

They talked some more until Hermione fell asleep. Tom sat by her bed thinking about what she’d said. Would he change his future?


	15. Chapter 15

The school was in uproar, students were gossiping in the corridors. Dippet was puzzled. The head boy had been missing since yesterday morning. He had been taken ill and told to rest by the nurse but none of the Slytherins had seen him at any meals or in his dormitory. Dippet scanned the Great Hall anxiously, convinced that Tom would walk in any minute now.

Abraxas and Lucretia were also worried but for a much more concerning reason. Hermione was also missing.

“What if she got pregnant and they decided to elope? You know they’ll be shunned,” she whispered, checking to make sure no one was listening.

“They’ll have us, Lu, and besides Tom was planning to marry her. A quick abortion and everything will be fixed.”

“How can you say that? You know those are incredibly dangerous,” she told him, furious.

“Well you would get one wouldn’t you? The Malfoy honour is not to be trifled with Lu.”

“Abraxas Lucius Malfoy how dare you. Why is Tom’s reputation so much more important than mine? If I were in such a way I would be keeping the child, with or without you.”

She stood up angrily and left. Her fiancé stared after her, wondering how to fix this. Muttering the whole way, she arrived at the Ravenclaw common room.

“How is a raven like a writing desk?” the stone asked.

“I’d burn them both to get to Hermione,” she replied. The stone leapt out of the way sensing that this prefect was not to be trifled with.

The four Ravenclaw boys stared at her as she entered. 

“Prefect business,” she snarled, “Which way to Hermione’s room?”

“Why should we tell you?” Lovegood asked. The rest of them laughed until she sent a curse straight to his groin that left him groaning on his knees.

“Which way?”

The other three boys backed away and pointed up the stairs.

“It’s on the left.”

Lucretia walked up the stairs without appreciating the bookshelves on the side and ignoring all rooms until she found a plaque on a door that read Hermione’s name. She burst into the room to find Tom sitting in a chair and sprawled half across the bed with Hermione’s hand in his hair. They were both fast asleep. She smiled for a minute.

Then she grabbed Tom and shook him awake.

“Did you get this girl pregnant? So, help me if you did Tom Riddle.”

“Of course not, Lucretia, what’s gotten into you?” he said, drawing his wand. The commotion roused Hermione who grabbed her wand and stunned the both of them.

Realising her mistake, she revived them, apologising.

“Sorry, war reflexes, really sorry. What’s going on?”

“She accused me of getting you pregnant.”

“No one has seen either of you for a whole day! We thought you might have eloped,” the black-haired girl explained. It sounded a little silly now that she saw that they were asleep.

“Me, married?” Hermione started laughing. Once she had thought she might get married to Ron and have a whole host of ginger children, but that was his dream really. She had never been the family type.

Riddle scowled at her.

“Oh, well sorry, it’s just that even Professor Dippet is worried. The Head Boy and the New Girl, quite a scandal you know,” she smirked.

“Don’t worry Lucretia, I’d hate to pregnant. I’d get an abortion like a shot.”

The other two looked horrified.

“What?”

“They’re so dangerous! They’re practically illegal. Tom Riddle I swear to Merlin that I’ll destroy you if she ever gets pregnant.”

Hermione smiled and sat up, “I second that notion. Now if the both of you wouldn’t mind, I have things to do.”

Lucretia smiled, and left to report to Abraxas that they were not married. She was still angry at him though.

Tom pulled her into his embrace, “Are you sure you don’t need any help getting dressed, Princess?”

She swatted him away. Slowly, she sat up, and took tiny, steady steps towards the bathroom.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiled weakly, “Just depression fucking over my body. Now get to class Tom, or you’ll ruin that perfect attendance.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before rearranging his clothes and leaving. When she heard the door close behind him, she slumped against the door frame and gasped. Her body trembled as she cried in silence.

“Kreacher. Kreacher. Help me get dressed please.”

Grumbling, the house elf dressed her while she cried some more before handing her a handkerchief and a glass of water. 

“Kreacher, I need you to take me somewhere.”

“Mistress, not supposed to be leavings Hogwarts.”

Hermione took a deep breath and wiped away her tears.

“Kreacher, I’m really sorry, but I order you to take me to Dean Forest. Now.”

She took his hand, bracing herself against the nausea. It didn’t help. When they arrived, she threw up, dry heaving and falling to the ground. The mud and the sick stuck to her hair and her hair stuck to the tears on her face. The wind felt so good on her body. She could smell the fresh scent of dirt and leaves and hear the rustle of leaves. There were hardly any creatures in this vast forest.

How many times had she been here, laughing with her parents? They had gone fishing in the stream and her father had taken a picture of her standing in the slimy rocks in the stream, beaming. She had fallen in straight after. Her bum ached where she had had a bruise for a month. The time they had gone camping and it had rained so much that they had cereal for every meal before checking into the nearest hotel.

She wailed out her pain into the clean air of the forest, suffocating cries that made her feel like she was choking. She could barely draw breath. 

More memories came back to her. Listening to the radio with Harry and Ron, anxious to know who was still alive. The time Harry and her had played cards where he constantly cheated because he was terrible and they ended up in a fit of laughter. Talking to Ron about a future where Voldemort was gone.

Her heart ached. She clutched it as if she was drying to drag it out before pounding herself with her fists.

When her tears finally subsided, and her body was covered in bruises and scratches, she pulled herself up, no energy to hold her back straight. Limped towards the stream before plunging herself in and letting the current take her as it wished. She felt clean as the cold water engulfed her, removing the tears from her face and the foliage in her hair. She closed her eyes. Her mind emptied out. No thoughts of death or pain or dark lords. Only the pull of oblivion. A dark void to comfort her. No consciousness left to speak of, that was her heart’s desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry Ive been so busy, ie been working on my mental health and fanfiction can consume. Its an addiction so cool cool cool cool cool cool. Anyway enjoy this super darkness xxx  
> Thanks to all of you who send kudos and comment <3 i really enjoy it xxx


End file.
